Forever Mine
by LustAndLove
Summary: The night Damon Salvatore met Elena Gilbert changed the course of their destinies forever. But just as the future made itself known, the past caught up with them to destroy it all. Together on the run, Damon finds himself falling for this girl. Hard. But, Damon Salvatore doesn't love and he won't let her change that. No matter how much his soul...his body begs him to give in.
1. Chapter 1

**I can't believe I'm actually starting another story so soon :p! I'd promised myself I'd take a break! But your comments were so nice and I actually started missing DELENA, so, I guess...here we go again! **

**This time, it's a whole new concept, though. The characters are still the same (at least their names/appearances), but aside from that, I'm making a total break from the TV show. Off course, the DELENA-love will still be...constantly, in many, many hot ways! I hope you guys like it! Let me know!**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters and I hate it! L.J. Smith is still the ruler of the Vampire Diaries universe.**

* * *

**Prologue**

Even though, not so long ago, he desperately tried to forget, in that moment, with the moon above him and with her in his arms; he couldn't help but remember the first time he saw her. He remembered thinking he'd never seen anything as beautiful, as mesmerizing as her. He remembered how thick curtains of long, chestnut hair fell around her shoulders and the way her big brown eyes were glazed over as she stared at her drink. Clearly, she'd been deep in thought and he recalled wishing he knew what was going on in that head. Now, if you knew anything about Damon Salvatore, you'd know how rare that was. He generally didn't care what humans thought or did. They were food, warm bodies to feast on in more ways than one and yet, when he saw her, the thought of hurting her repulsed him. Off course, back then, he didn't know why yet. He didn't know who she was or what she was going to mean to him. He didn't know that one day, he'd hold her, like he was holding her now: clutched against his chest, his fingers digging into her arms, begging for her to stay, to stay with him, to hold on, even though deep down, he knew it was already too late. She was gone and Damon… Damon just begged. For a do-over. For a second chance. For one more moment with her, so he could tell her how much he hated her. So he could tell her how desperately he loved her.

But like I said, back then, Damon was clueless. All he knew on that warm summer night in Venice, was that she was the most amazing thing in that bar and one way or another, she was going to be his.

* * *

**Chapter one**

"You're a fucking fool!"

Damon smiled, rolling his eyes as Stefan's insult boomed through his cell.

"Come back," his brother continued, his voice too threatening for Damon's taste. "Now!"

"Or what?" Damon hissed.

"Brother, don't be a stubborn ass! It's not safe! He knows we used to live there! He probably has men posted all over the place in case we show our faces!"

Damon grinned, pulling his hat further down. "Then I guess I'll have to keep my face hidden."

"Damon," Stefan hissed. "You come back _now_ or I swear−"

Fuming, Damon snapped his cell shut and shoved it in his jeans. He didn't like being told what to do. Especially not by him. Technically, Stefan was still younger than him and if anyone was going to boss anyone around, it was Damon. Besides, his brother should be glad he left. Yes, Klaus was still out there and finding the infamous Salvatores was probably still on his priority list, but this Klaus asshole was the reason he'd been locked up in a safe house in Paris for months now, a very crowded safe house where Damon was slowly but surely losing his mind. He had to get out of there before he ripped that house and everyone in it apart. So, as he saw it, Damon was doing them all a favor by leaving for a while.

Taking in the beauty that was Venice, Damon roamed through the many alleys, passed the soothing canals and breathed in the mouthwatering smells coming from the open kitchen doors until he felt himself calming down. He loved Venice. In fact, as far as he was concerned, there was nothing more beautiful than Venice by night.

He was about to find out how wrong he was.

"Get out of here, you bastard!"

Damon stopped in his tracks just in time to avoid the man who was being shoved out onto the street by a pissed off bartender. Damon knew he was a bartender, because the man reeked of alcohol and yet, it wasn't in his blood. And Damon could smell his blood clearly thanks to the cut in his hand. Judged by the degree of the bartender's rage, Damon guessed he had the intoxicated man on the pavement to thank for that, too. The man on the ground didn't put up a fight now, though. He just slurred something vaguely reminiscent of Italian and then wobbled off, leaving behind a pungent, gut wrenching scent.

"Sorry about that," the bartender said, only then noticing Damon.

He shrugged. "No worries." Not his usual responds, but hey, he was in a good mood. He was out, in the open and happy to be miles away from a certain French country.

"Let me buy you a drink," the bartender offered, gesturing for Damon to follow him inside.

Damon was already halfway through saying _no, thanks_ when he glanced at the open door…and saw her. The place was packed, but she stood out, to say the least. It wasn't anything she was wearing. The simple jeans and black top weren't the reason he, and every other male in that bar, were drawn to her. It was just…her. There was something about her. Maybe it was the fact that she didn't seem interested in what most women in that bar were interested in, which was finding a man to take home. It was obvious that that was the furthest thing from her mind. She never even looked at any of the men who were looking at her. She just kept her eyes on her drink, a deep frown wrinkling her eyebrows.

"So, what'll you have?"

Damon hadn't even realized he'd followed the bartender in until he spoke to him, drawing his eyes away from the mysterious woman.

"Scotch," Damon boomed. "Neat."

"Coming right up."

As the man put a glass in front of him, pouring the liquor in, Damon lowered his voice and asked, "Who is that woman? At the end of the bar?"

The man smiled, shaking his head.

"What?"

"Nothing," he laughed. "It's just that you're not the first to ask me that tonight. And I'll tell you the same thing I told them: I don't know."

"She's not a regular?"

"Nope. I've never seen her here before," the man said, adding as he smiled, "I wouldn't."

"Wouldn't what?"

"She's not in the mood to be hit on. Trust me, many men have tried before you."

"I'm not your average man," he said, throwing his hat down on the counter. His raven hair was rummaged, but he knew that wouldn't matter. He knew he was dashing, irresistable. Centuries of experience had taught him that much.

Confident, Damon got up, drink in hand, and made his way towards her. The closer he got to her, the more details he noticed: the tiny freckles in her neck, the plumpness of her blood red lips, the way her sun kissed skin seemed to glow. She was truly amazing, unique and something told him that there was more to be discovered about her, that there was more to this woman than met the eye. She proved him right from the very beginning by sighing,

"Go away."

Damon closed the mouth that was about to greet her, his lips curling up in a little smile. Her voice sounded exactly as he imagined it would sound like. Soft, sweet and yet, feisty, determined.

"Seriously," the woman continued when he didn't move from behind her. "I'm not interested."

"Are you sure?" Damon asked, the amusement thick in his voice. "I mean, you haven't even looked at me."

"I don't have to," she said, making her curls bounce on her shoulders. "I'm sure you're handsome, charming, but please, leave me alone."

Damon didn't listen, instead sitting down on the stool beside her. She didn't look at him, but he looked at her, studying every inch of her expressive face: her high cheekbones, her long lashes, her slim nose… But it wasn't anything he saw that mesmerized him most. What really took him by surprise, was her smell. Her extraordinary, rich smell. Not a trace of perfume diluted the natural scent that clung to her and invaded his senses. He'd never smelled anything quite like her.

"Who are you?" Damon asked, his voice lower, deeper than before.

"I'm just a woman who wants to finish her drink in peace."

He gazed at the glass she was clutching. "That would require you actually taking a sip."

That's when her eyes found his and even though they were angry, he couldn't help but drown in her warm, doe eyes. Was there anything about her that wasn't breathtaking?

"I'm Damon," he said, tipping his head slightly. "Damon Salvatore."

"I don't care."

How long had it been since a woman had refused him? Since he'd been forced to work for it, put in some effort? Usually, women just threw themselves at his feet, but not her. And for some reason, he liked even _that_ about her.

"So, why are you not drinking?" he asked, trying to figure her out. "Addict?"

She sighed, pinching her nose. "If I tell you, will you go away?"

Damon just stared at her, watching her swallow, hearing her heart speed up just a bit. She was nervous. Maybe he had an effect on her after all.

"I don't want to get drunk," she finally admitted. "I need to keep a clear head."

"I don't think one scotch will intoxicate you."

"And you know this from our long history together?"

His smile widened. "If you're not going to drink it, why order it?"

"I like the smell," she snapped. "Is this usually how you hit on women? By interrogating them?"

"Only if they refuse to give me their name."

"I bet that doesn't happen too often."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Just an observation. Don't flatter yourself."

He laughed and even though he could tell she tried to hide it, a smile was pulling at her lips, too.

"Let me buy you another drink."

"No, I−"

Damon ignored her, already ordering a red wine.

"Seriously," the woman said when the glass was put in front of her. "I don't want this."

"Wine has less of a kick than a scotch."

"Still, I don't want it," she said determined, pushing the drink away. "I don't want to owe you."

"It's just a drink."

"That's how it starts out."

He shook his head, smiling. "You have some serious trust issues."

"No, I don't," she said, adding under her breath, "It's everyone else who has issues with trust."

Damon's eyebrows knitted into confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Letting out a deep breath, the woman turned so she faced the crowded dance floor. Her arm grazed his as she did so, leaving behind a trail of sparks. Damon couldn't even remember the last time he'd reacted to a mere touch that way, but he was sure it had been in his human days. Never as a vampire. Never as a monster.

"See the woman in the red dress?" she asked, making him focus back on the present.

Damon nodded, spotting her immediately.

"The man she's been dancing with all night, he's married. And not to her. The blond woman by the door is a prostitute, but she won't tell her date until he _used her services _and charges him for it. Also, the couple at the other end of the bar that looks oh so happy," she said, looking over Damon's shoulder, giving him a delectable view on her slim neck. "He's beating her."

Damon followed her eyes and found that she was right. There were old bruises on her collarbone and fresh ones on her wrist. She tried to hide them, but they came peeping out from under her sleeves.

"And then off course, there's the man in the black shirt, sitting alone at the table in the corner," she continued. "He's gay, he just doesn't know it yet. And neither does the woman who's been eyeing him all night. She'll probably go over to him within the next half hour. He'll probably buy her a drink and try to put a stop to his own slumbering doubts. He'll marry her, have some kids with her, only to discover he can't hide who he is. He'll kill himself or leave her, either way, it'll hurt. Either way, she'll be broken. So," she said turning back around to her drink. "You say I have issues? Then fine, I have issues, but I'd rather have issues than be like them and fall blindly, believe without question, without reason only to be broken by some male, arrogant idiot in the end."

A long moment of silence passed, a moment during which Damon just looked at her, trying to see her, trying to figure her out, but her eyes gave nothing away. She was a closed book, a mystery and there weren't a lot of women like that left in the world. Damon should know. He'd been everywhere, seen everything, met every kind of person there was. Or so he'd though before_ she_ showed up.

"Aren't you going to tell me I'm wrong?" she asked. "That I shouldn't judge them so harshly? That people are basically good?"

"No."

Her deep, brown eyes widened a little. "You're not?"

"Nope."

"Most people would."

"I guess I'm not most people."

She just frowned at that, her nose crinkling in a way that made something carnal rise inside Damon. Something that wanted her more than it had ever wanted anything. What was that about?

"Who are you?" Damon rumbled, intensifying his gaze. "Tell me your name."

"Why?"

"Just tell me."

"No."

"Come on, tell me your name."

"What do you think will happen if I do? It won't change anything. I'm not leaving with you."

"You're just assuming I want to take you home?" Damon said, acting shocked. "You're a little full of yourself, aren't you?"

A half smile crept up her lips. "You have a sense of humor. I'll give you that."

"Now _that_ was definitely a compliment," Damon rumbled.

"Yeah well, don't let it get to your head."

"Okay" he said, taking a sip from his own scotch. "If you won't tell me your name, at least tell me what you're doing here. You're clearly not on the prowl for men."

"Maybe I'm waiting for my boyfriend. Did you consider that?"

"I did."

"And yet you're here."

"I guess I don't care."

"Ah, so you're arrogant, too."

"Is it arrogance if you're really superior to everyone?"

And then, she smiled. Truly smiled. And as her brilliant white teeth flashed behind her blood red lips, something inside Damon told him he would do anything just to make her smile like that. When she smiled, she lid up and for the shortest second, he could see who she was underneath the toughness. He could see the woman within. And she was beautiful. Why was she trying to hide?

Damon shook his head softly, leaning in closer. He knew all he had to do to get her name was compel her, but for some reason, he didn't want to. He wanted her to tell him her name voluntarily. That was new. Then again, pretty much everything he was experiencing with her was new.

"What's your name?" he whispered, his voice now void of every trace of humor.

Her smile dropped. She could tell he wasn't joking anymore, she could tell he was serious, but still she said, "No." Her voice was kinder, though. Almost apologetic.

"Just tell me," he growled, leaning closer to her, breathing in her warm scent. "Tell me your name."

She sighed, slowly shaking her head. "Trust me, you don't want to know me."

"Trust me," he whispered back. "I do."

"Why?" she sighed, clearly getting frustrated. "I mean, you do realize there are probably about a dozen women here who would love to give you their name. And more for that matter. Why go for the one woman you can't have?"

"Who says I can't have you?"

"I do."

"I love a challenge."

"You won't love this one."

"Are you always this difficult?"

"Are you always this annoying?"

"I've been told I am repeatedly, yes."

There was that smile again.

"You know, it's just a name," he rumbled, trying to convince her it was okay. "What's the worst that could−"

His cellphone cut him off, ringing in his pocket. When he saw the name on caller-ID, he turned his body away from the mystery girl and snapped, "What?"

"Salvatore, what are you doing?" Lexi shrieked through his phone. "Your brother says you're not in the safe house anymore? Tell me you're not that stupid!"

"I can't talk right now, Lexi," Damon snapped, eager to get back to the woman beside him.

"At least ease my mind and say you're on the first flight back to Paris."

"No can do."

"Seriously, Damon?!" she gnarled. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to make these safe houses? How much magic it takes? How many months I staked out these places to make sure no one connected to Klaus was anywhere near? If he finds you, he'll make you tell him where they are! You're endangering−"

"I would never tell him anything, Lexi!"

"Klaus can compel you, idiot!"

"I'm on Vervain."

"Still, we can't take the risk! So, you get your ass back to Paris or−"

He hung up and shoved his phone in his leather jacket, turning back around. "Sorry about−"

His stomach clenched as he stared at the seat beside him, the empty seat beside him.

His heart racing, Damon jumped up, looking at the exits. She couldn't have gone out the front door, because he'd been facing it during the phone call. He would've seen her leave. So that left the emergency exit. Without giving it a second thought, he busted out the door and found himself in a dark alley. Two dumpster made the night reek of garbage and yet, he could smell her in the middle of it. She was still close.

Moving faster than he should so early in the night, Damon followed the scent. It wasn't long before he saw her dooming up in the darkness. She was walking at a fast pace, her arms folded over her chest. He kept his distance, not wanting to startle her.

She turned the corner and he sped up a little, afraid he'd lose sight of her for too long. And then it all happened so fast, even Damon was surprised. He'd barely turned the corner or someone grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back, slamming him face first into the wall. Off course, it was a very weak attempt to overpower him, but when he saw who was holding him down, he decided not to fight back.

"You're following me now?" The woman from the bar snapped, her grip tightening. He had to give it to her, she was strong. In fact, if he'd been a human man, there was a really good chance she could kick his ass. But he wasn't human. He could break free at any time. The thing was, though, he didn't want to. Not yet.

"What are you?" she continued, her voice tight. "Some stalker? A serial killer?"

"You know I'm not."

"And how would I know that?" she snapped. "I've met you five minutes ago."

"First impressions are generally correct. Did you get the sense I'm a danger to you?"

Her grip weakened just a bit. She probably didn't even notice herself, but he did.

"You are following me through a dark alleyway, so I think I'm going to go with the impression I have of you now!"

Damon sighed. He had preferred if she'd let him go voluntarily, but since that wasn't in the cards−

With one twist, he was out of her grip and turned around, facing the stunned woman.

"How did you do that?"

"Guess I'm just stronger."

"Not possible."

"Who's arrogant now?"

"Enough with the charm! Why were you following me?"

His eyes fixed on hers, he took a step closer to the woman, leaving only a thin film of air between them. She didn't back away one inch, though. She just stood there, her chin raised defiantly. She was stubborn, fearless or at least pretending to be.

"I didn't get what I wanted before," he rumbled, his eyes dropping to her lips for a split second. He could hear her heart speeding up then, could smell her blood pumping faster underneath her skin. "Your name," he added, pushing down a self-satisfied smirk.

"You're kidding, right?"

"I don't kid."

"You're like a dog with a bone."

"So just throw me the bone."

She laughed and if Damon thought _he_ was surprised by the beautiful sound that passed her lips, _she_ seemed simply stunned. Frowning, she touched her lips, a move that stirred something inside Damon.

"What are you so afraid of?"

Her eyes narrowed into slithers as the wind caught her hair, gathering it behind her head. The chill off the surrounding water hit her face and he could see her cheeks turning red in responds. Or maybe it was her anger that made her flush.

"I'm going now!" she snarled, pushing past him. "Don't follow me!"

"At least let me walk you home," Damon insisted, catching up with her.

"Yeah, sure," she scoffed. "I'll just show the potential psychopath where I live. Do I look like an idiot to you?"

"Not at all."

She peeked at him from the corner of her eyes, picking up her pace.

"It's night," Damon added. "You're a woman, alone−"

"You don't say."

"−and this isn't the best area in Venice."

"I can manage."

"God," Damon bellowed, frustrated. "Don't be so stubborn. Let me walk you home."

"You're the most persistent asshole I've ever−"

Before she could finish her insult, Damon curled an arm around her waist, forcing her to stop in her tracks. She opened her mouth to object, but then, she saw why he'd stopped her.

"When I tell you to run," Damon rumbled, keeping his eyes glued to the two vampires that had doomed up out of the darkness in front of them. "Run."

The woman's heart raced dangerously fast beside him, her breath growing shallow, the fear radiating of her, making her scent grow thicker.

"Can I help you?" Damon growled, taking a step closer to the vampires, putting himself between them and _her_.

"You're not easy to find," the biggest of the two said, rolling up his sleeves, revealing the tattoo Damon already knew would be there. All of _his_ men had the same infinity tattoo across their lower arm. "Klaus knew it was only a matter of time before you'd show up here, though."

"Well, he's always been an astute fellow."

The second vampire laughed, his pitch black eyes finding the woman behind Damon. "If you don't want your friend to get hurt, I suggest you come quietly."

Damon blocked her from their sight, an anger roaring inside of him he'd never felt before. And he'd felt a lot of anger in his immortal life. But it was _her_. The fact that that bastard was threatening to hurt _her_ to get to him pushed him over some sort of edge.

"Whatever your name is," Damon snarled, keeping his eyes fixed on Klaus' minions. "Run."

The very second he felt her disappear from behind him, his every nerve screamed to follow her. To not lose her from his sight. To not lose her, period. And then, the vampires charged and his body screamed something else entirely: to protect her, to keep her safe, to kill anyone who came near her.

The biggest of the two reached him first, slamming him into the wall with a force that took him back for just a second. He could feel blood trickling down his hair, his neck, but he knew the wound would heal. With that in mind, Damon's fist slammed into the vampire's kidney before aiming for his ribs, breaking more than just a few. That took the vampire down long enough for Damon to snap his neck, leaving him immobilized.

But Damon didn't feel like celebrating. Not when he saw her. With the vampire's arm around her neck, cutting of her air supply. She was clawing at his arm, but the vamp didn't budge.

"Okay," Damon growled, holding up his hands as a sign of defeat. "Okay."

"We're leaving now," the vamp announced. "Quietly."

"Fine," Damon gave in. "Just let her go. I'll come with−"

And then, the girl slammed her head back, crashing it into the vamps nose, gaining enough leeway to break free and for Damon to break his neck before the vampire recovered from the woman's unexpected attack.

As the monster's body hit the ground, Damon turned back to the woman who was a mere shim of her former self. Her cheeks and lips were no longer flushed, but pale, every trace of color faded from them. Her big brown eyes had watered up, a few tears already trickling down her chin and a few strands of her brown hair were clinging to her now sweaty forehead.

He wanted to go to her, but when he took his first step, she backed away, her face distorted in horror. That's when he realized his fangs were out and his eyes were no doubt veiny and pitch black. No wonder she was scared of him.

He wanted to tell her it was okay, that she was safe, that he wouldn't hurt her, but before he could do any of that, the woman swayed on her feet, her eyelids fluttering shut. Anticipating her fall, he reacted, not thinking twice about it. It was instinct. His new, disturbing instinct to keep her safe. Damon moved rapidly, catching her just in time before her face made contact with the floor.

That was the first time Damon Salvatore held her in his arms. She was so soft. So warm. Damon could feel her heat radiating through him, enveloping his cold heart that hadn't stopped racing since he'd seen her. Who was this girl? And why did he feel so drawn to her?

Before he could figure it out, the vampire behind him stirred and he realized it wasn't the time or the place to examine the pull he felt towards her. It was the time to run. With her. Somehow, he already knew he would be in a world of trouble when she woke up. She wouldn't like him kidnapping her, but he would make her see it was for her own good. She would understand.

Even though he didn't actually know her yet, he already knew that was a load of crap.

* * *

**So, what did you think? Please, let me know! Your comments keep me going and determine whether or not I continue a story (obviously, no comments=you guys don't like it and I'll have to start over). Thanks as always! **

**xxx LustAndLov**e


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Damon wasn't a big believer when it came to faith. The existence of a higher power determining how his life played out seemed a little unlikely to the oldest Salvatore and yet, the longer he watched her sleep−her curls spilling out over his satin pillow, the orange light cast from the fireplace dancing on her skin−the more he started to have doubts. Suddenly, he found himself wondering if this woman had crossed his path for a reason, because somehow, it felt like she was supposed to be there, with him. Somehow, it felt right, more right than anything he'd ever felt before.

And it freaked him _the fuck_ out.

Who was this girl?

She stirred, her legs entangling with the silk sheets, the movement of her chest growing erratic.

Smiling, he leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees as he took her in. She looked so vulnerable, so different from the tough woman he'd met only hours ago in that bar. And even back then, he'd imagined her exactly like this, in his bed.

Well, not _exactly_.

In his fantasy, he was in that bed with her, holding her, her legs wrapped around his waist, her breasts pressed against his chest, her wet lips molded against his own until he lost himself inside of her, forgot what a monster he was, forgot everything but _her_.

"Don't," she whimpered, her nails digging into his mattress. "Please."

The smile on Damon's lips faded as he realized she wasn't exactly dreaming about the same thing he was. She was having a nightmare and he could guess what−or who−that nightmare was about. After what she'd been through, after what she'd seen last night, she must think of him as an abomination. How was he ever going to convince her she was safe with him? How was he ever going to convince her to stay…with him? As soon as she was going to wake up, every single one of her human instincts were going to tell her to get as far away from him as she could. And he couldn't blame her if she did. The question was, though, could he stop her? Off course, he could overpower her, force her to stay, but, again, that wouldn't feel right. Those new instincts that had arisen inside of him at the sight of her were telling him to tread carefully, to not scare her, to make her trust him. That had never happened to him before. In fact, generally, he like his women scared and he couldn't care less whether or not they trusted them. Quite frankly, they would be fools if they did.

But _she _was different.

And she proved that again when she opened her beautiful, big brown eyes. While most people would've stayed frozen, petrified when waking up in a room with someone who they'd seen as a monster only a short while ago, _she_ jumped up, grabbed the iron poker that stood next to the roaring fireplace and backed herself up in a corner, pointing the weapon at him in a way that left no room for doubt as to how she felt about him.

Her hair was rummaged, her eyes red from sleep and her heart was thumping out of control. She was clearly scared, but her pride refused to show him. Instead, she screamed, "Stay the fuck away from me!"

"Listen," Damon said, holding up his hands, palms up. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Not going to hurt me?" she hissed, "I saw you! You're one of them!"

Damon shook his head, taking a step closer to her trembling body. "I'm not one of them. Look." He rolled up his sleeves, showing her his bare arms.

"So you don't have the same tattoos they have, so what? That doesn't prove anything! I saw your face! You're a fucking vampire!"

_Thank you Twilight,_ he thought, relieved he didn't have to explain to her what he was. Still, he had other things to explain. Like who those vampires were last night and how he was different, how she was safe with him. Damon knew he should explain patiently, make her understand at her own pace. However, one look out the window told him he only had a few minutes of daytime left, which meant he only had a few minutes before Klaus' men were going to descend on the house. So, whatever he was going to do, he had to move fast.

So that's exactly what he did.

He moved.

Fast.

Before she could blink, he was on her, slapping the poker out of her hand as he pushed her back against the wall, one hand behind her head to make sure she didn't crack her skull and the other hand on her mouth, her supple lips pressed against his palm, igniting something primal inside of him.

_God, she feels good._

"I'm sorry I have to do this," he said, his voice low as her tiny fists hit his chest. "But there's no time to make you understand slowly. So, here are the headlines: vampires are real, yes. I'm one of them, but I'm not like the vampires who attacked us last night. Those tattoos on their arms, they mean something. They mean they're Forboding, vampires who work for someone named Niklaus Michaelson. Now, as far as vampires go, Klaus is as evil as they get and after last night, you're on his radar."

Her eyebrows pulled together in a deep frown, her brown eyes confused.

"Klaus has been after me for a very long time. I'll explain why later. All you need to know now is that by saving you last night, I put you in danger."

The frown deepened even more.

"Klaus now thinks you mean something to me which means he'll try to use you," Damon continued. "He'll try to get to you to get to me. And I understand that all this new information and learning about this new world is overwhelming and your first instinct is to run, but please know that you are truly safe with me. _I_ will not hurt you. _He_ will and if you run, the Forboding will find you before I can, so please, when I let go of you, just stay. Stay with me."

He kept his palm glued to her lips until he heard her heart slow down.

"Okay," he said, taking a step away from her. "I packed us some bags−"

"I'm not going with you."

Damon sighed, his blue eyes hard on hers. Why did she have to make this so difficult? Why couldn't she just listen? "I told you−"

"−you won't hurt me," she said, swallowing hard. "And I'm just supposed to take your word for it?"

"If I wanted you dead, I would've killed you in your sleep!"

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"It's supposed to show you that you can trust me!"

"I told you before, I don't trust."

"You don't have a choice!"

"I do, actually! I have the choice to leave!"

She pushed forward, trying to get to the door.

Frustrated, Damon grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks, glaring. "Listen to me, you won't stand a chance alone!"

"I can take care of myself!"

"No, you can't! You can't protect yourself against The Foreboding, against Klaus!"

"And you can?" she snarled, fighting his grip. "I barely made it out alive last night!"

"I have strength, speed, I know how Klaus thinks−"

"Just let me go!"

"God," he gnarled. "Stop being so stubborn! Where the hell are you going to go, huh? There are only a few places in this world where he won't find you and I'm one of the very few who know where they are!"

She stopped trying to break free, her eyes a little bit more intense on his. "What places?"

"Safe houses," he explained, letting go of her. "Houses that are spelled by the most powerful witches to stay hidden from Klaus and his Foreboding. I can arrange shelter for you in one of them. You'll be safe there until we get rid of Klaus."

"Safe houses," she repeated, her voice skeptical. "Sounds like a load of bullshit. Are you lying to get me to come with you?"

"No, I'm not. I'd say _trust_ _me_, but−" he trailed of, casting her a little smile.

She didn't smile back, though. Instead, she ran a hand through her thick curls, her eyes dropped to the floor. "And if you can't get rid of Klaus? I'm just supposed to stay hidden forever?"

"Klaus is on his way out," Damon said, capturing her gaze again. "My brother and I, we're setting something in motion that will destroy him. It won't be much longer."

"You're going to kill Klaus?"

"Yes."

"_Before_ I die of old age?"

He smiled again. "Yes."

"How?"

Damon shot another glance at the window, at the sky that was now a deeper blue. "I'll tell you later. We have to move. Now. This is my family's house and it's the first place Klaus' Foreboding are going to look, so please, let's go."

She turned her back on him, wringing her hands, clearly thinking everything over and once again he hoped she would just listen to him and let him help her. If she didn't, well, he was just going to have to _make_ her, because whether she liked it or not, he was going to keep her safe. He wasn't going to let Klaus get to her. Ever.

"Okay," she said after a long minute of silence. "I'll come with you."

"Good."

"But just to make things clear: the first sign I get of this being some sort of trap, I'll kill you."

"It's kind of harder to kill a vampire than a human, Buffy."

"Then I'll just have to put in some effort."

And with that, she stalked out the door and headed downstairs.

"I guess I'm carrying the bags," he mumbled, unable to wipe that stupid smile of his face. Why was it that in the middle of the most perilous time of his life, Damon found himself smiling more than he'd smiled over the past centuries _combined_?

"Are you coming or what?" she yelled, her voice annoyed.

Shaking his head, Damon grabbed the two suitcases and mentally prepared himself for a bumpy ride.

* * *

Rain was slamming down on the car as Damon sped up even more. It was pitch black now, The Foreboding were no doubt hunting them and if they didn't find a safe place to spend the night soon, they'd track them down, too. That's what they were specialized in. That's why Klaus had chosen them to join his ranks. The Foreboding were hunters in their purest form. They didn't let anyone or anything get in the way of grabbing their prey. They were ruthless, not unlike their master.

And somehow, the girl beside him seemed to realize that, too. "We should get off the road."

It was the first time she'd spoken in hours and Damon could hear in her voice that she was growing tired. You couldn't tell by looking at her, though. Her hands hadn't stopped clutching her seat, her eyes never ceased to check the mirrors. She was clearly on edge.

"We're almost there."

She frowned. "Really? Where are we anyway?"

"Austria."

"Austria? We're in Switzerland?"

"Didn't you notice we crossed the border?"

"I was busy−"

"−trying to spot the Foreboding," he finished, turning a corner. "It's pointless, you know. You'll never see them coming."

"Which is why I'll say this again: we should get off the road."

"Almost," he said, watching her wring her hands nervously. "Relax."

"Relax? Klaus is after me. How exactly can I relax?"

Damon had a few suggestions. Suggestions he could see very vividly play out in his mind. Suggestions that made his pants grow tighter.

"How about some music?" he rumbled, suppressed desire thick in his voice.

"Okay."

As soon as he turned on his stereo, the CD he'd been playing earlier blasted its notes through the car and as Mozart broke through the thunder, once again, Damon felt old. How he preferred the music from the old days over the noise they called music now.

"If you want to listen to something else−"

"No," she cut him off, resting her head against the window. "This is perfect."

It only took a few minutes before the girl's eyes drifted closed, but she wasn't sleeping. Her fingers gave that away. They were tapping against her leg in a way that made Damon ask, "You play?"

Her eyes snapped open. "What?"

"The piano," he said, glancing at the fingers that had halted mid-air.

She flexed her hand before balling it up in a fist. "I used to."

"Not anymore?"

"That's what _used to_ means, isn't it?" she bit out.

Damon shook his head, sniffing, plastering his eyes back on the road. As extraordinary as this girl was, she was starting to get on his nerves. Why couldn't she just talk to him? Tell him about herself? Did she think this was easy for him? Being social, being _interested_? It wasn't! It wasn't easy at all! Or normal for that matter! He didn't care about anything, about anyone and yet, he wanted to know about her, talk to her! Didn't she understand how rare that was?

"I'm sorry."

Surprised, Damon glanced at her, his brows pulled together.

"I know I'm being a bitch," she added, her eyes dropping to her hands. "I'm just not good at this."

"At what?"

"Talking to people."

"Well, I'm not exactly a _person_, so−"

"Do you actually believe that? About yourself?"

"You do remember I'm a vampire, right?" he said, turning a corner. "I'm not a person. I'm not human."

"You're more human than most humans."

"Clearly, you don't know me very well."

"I know you saved me when you could've just left me to rot."

"One good deed does not a human make." Damon didn't know why he was trying to convince her he wasn't a good man. Or a man, period. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't like having to live up to expectations. If she thought he was good, she would expect good all the time. And he wasn't good. Not really. What he'd done for her, what he was doing for her still, didn't come natural to him.

"Okay, fine, you're not human," she said. "But you still saved me. By the way, did I thank you for that already?"

"Not yet."

"Huh," she huffed. "I'm sure I will at some point."

Damon laughed, a sound he hadn't heard come out of his mouth in a very, very long time. He didn't even know he could still do that. Laugh.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Damon tore his eyes away from the road and frowned at the brunette in the passenger's seat. "Would it matter if I said no?"

"How did you do that?"

"That's what I thought," he mumbled. "How did I do what?"

"We left in daylight," she explained, her head resting against the window. The heat from her skin damped the glass where she touched it. "How did you not burn?"

"Disappointed?"

"Did I say that?"

Her eyes held his for a long moment, before Damon raised the hand that held his Daylight ring and said, "This thing. It's spelled."

"It lets you walk in the sun?"

He nodded as she leaned forward, touching the Lapis Lazuli stone. His skin prickled underneath her touch. His hand felt like it was being pulled to her, ached to touch her, cup her cheek, graze her lips. And he could barely stop himself from doing exactly that.

"Pretty."

"Yeah," he growled, watching her curls spill over her chest and neck. "It is."

Her eyes flickered from his ring to him, something in them he couldn't quite pinpoint, before she leaned back in her seat, staring out the window.

"Can I ask _you_ a question now?" Damon asked, changing lanes.

"Would it matter if I said no?"

"Tell me your name."

"That's not a question."

"What is your name?"

"Are you still on that?"

"We'll be on the road together for a while. You have to give me something to call you."

"What?"

"I'm just saying, I have to call you something−"

"No, not that!" she said, her voice harsh again. "What do you mean, we'll be on the road together for a while? Our next stop is the safe house, right?"

He turned his focus back on the road, avoiding having to give an answer, but apparently his silence was an answer unto itself.

"Salvatore," she hissed. "Tell me there's a safe house in Austria."

"Not exactly."

The girl shifted in her seat, moving her body so she faced him as she barked, "What?"

"There's no safe house in Austria," Damon repeated, bracing himself.

"You lying son of a bitch! I knew I should never have come with you! You ass−"

"I wasn't _lying_ about the safe house," Damon cut off her insults. "But it's not like they're conveniently located in every town. The closest is in Paris."

"Paris," she hissed. "As in Paris, _France_?"

Another well placed moment of silence.

Hey genius," she barked. "You do realize you're going the wrong way then, right? We could've been there already, but instead you wound up across from it in freaking Austria!"

"I couldn't go straight there," Damon explained, trying to keep his voice calm. "That safe house is packed with people hiding from Klaus. I'd be putting them all in danger. I need to get the Foreboding off our tail first."

"And how are we going to get them _off_ our tail if there's no safe house to keep them from_ ripping of_ said tail?"

" That's how." Damon's foot pushed down on the brake, bringing the car to a skidding halt.

"A club?" she snapped, peering out the window. "Your brilliant idea is a club?"

Damon just got out of the car, stalking over to the entrance of the huge, illuminated building.

"Hey!" she yelled behind him, trying to keep up with his pace. "You're not serious right now, are you? How is this place safe? It's bursting with people!"

"Exactly. People. Not vampires."

"Okay," she sped up until she was in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe we should keep driving after all."

"No."

He wanted to walk past her, but she mimicked his move, blocking his path to the door.

"I think it's safer," she persisted. "Safer than a freaking club!"

"No."

"Why the hell not? Give me one good reason we can't−"

"You smell."

Her brown eyes spit fire as her hands clasped down on her slim hips. "Excuse me?"

Damon reached her in two steps, standing so close he could see tiny goose bumps spreading all over her arms and neck.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was running his hand through her hair, letting her curls flow like water between his fingers.

And to his surprise, she let him.

There was no struggle, no protest.

She _let him_ touch her.

Trying his luck, he ducked his head down until his nose softly touched her rosy cheek. And still, she didn't move. She just stood there, her pulse racing, her smell enveloping him.

"You, sweetheart," he rumbled, surprised he could still form words at that point. "Smell like sunshine."

She swallowed hard, his nose slowly skimming to the back of her ear, to her neck.

Why didn't she move?

Why didn't she stop him?

Didn't she sense that he needed to be stopped?

Her skin felt like butter underneath his touch, her blood called out to him like no blood ever had before. He _wanted_ her. Wanted to taste her, feel her, possess her.

_God_, why didn't she stop him?

"Your smell is one of a kind, unique," he groaned, his control hanging on by a thread. "And you leave a trace of it everywhere we go. If we stay in that car, The Foreboding will track us down in no time and out in the open, we're sitting ducks."

Her smell grew thicker, richer as he cupped the nape of her neck. His lips caressed her skin, too shallow to taste her, but not shallow enough to miss the carotid artery that pumped thick, red fluid through her entire body.

He felt himself grow hard, felt his hand clutch her neck tighter, rougher.

And that's when she seemed to understand.

That's when she finally had enough.

With one rough shove against his chest, she released herself from his grip, her expression wild, baffled and Damon wondered if it were _his_ actions she was so surprised by…or her own. He hadn't missed how her cheeks had turned a deeper shade of red or how she'd trembled when his lips had touched her creamy skin. She'd reacted to him and for the first time, it wasn't a repulsed reaction or a scared one.

This had been different.

Much different.

"_Don't. Ever. Do. That. Again_," she hissed, her heart still racing.

"Do what?" he asked innocently.

"You know what!"

Damon tipped his head to the side, his eyes boring into hers.

"Listen to me very carefully," she bit out. "You will never, ever, touch me like that again and you will certainly _never_ bite me! Do you hear me!"

"Okay, I won't," he sang, his voice cool, smooth. "Not until you ask me to."

"That will never happen!"

"We'll see."

"Screw you!"

"Maybe later," he grinned, even though he didn't feel like smiling at all. His entire body hurt, _physically_ hurt, as he walked away from her to the entrance. His muscles protested the distance between them, tried forcing him back to her, wanted him to drag her to the car and fuck her against it until she begged him to bite her, to keep going, to make her come again and again until she felt she would die from pleasure.

"Club Cepa?" she mumbled behind him, her soft voice not doing anything to help his situation. "That means Sulfur, right?"

"You speak Russian?" he asked, impressed.

"I don't think this is smart. I think we should go."

Damon sighed, his patience, his self-control, wearing too thin to have the same discussion again. Before he could stop himself or think it through, he had her thrown over his shoulder and carried her past a long line of clubbers who wanted to get in, who'd probably had been waiting for hours and who were less than pleased that some guy with a kicking and screaming girl over his shoulder just skipped the line, exchanged a meaningful look with the bouncer and disappeared inside.

"Damon, let me go!" she screamed over the loud, booming music. "Right now!"

He ignored her, not having the strength to be the good guy at that point. He needed to get her to safety, needed to get her to a room where she could sleep and most of all, he needed to put some distance between them before the monster inside got too strong for him to push back.

Desperately, he scanned the room for the person he needed. It wasn't long before he found him. Above the crowd, in a glass office that overlooked the club, stood the dark haired, black eyed figure he needed. He'd already spotted him, his brows pulled together, his black eyes boring into his.

"Damon!" she shrieked, her fists hitting his back as he made his way up the iron stairs. "Put me down! I'm not kidding! Put me−"

"What do you want?" the large man in front of him boomed, stopping Damon from getting to the door.

"I need to speak to Hades."

"He's otherwise engaged."

"No, he's not. Let me in."

"Damon, I'm begging−"

"Vampires are not welcome here, demon," the guy cut her off, his tone even more threatening. "You should know that."

"It's about Klaus."

"That doesn't change−"

"Let him in!"

The cold, low voice made the bodyguard step aside and the girl's nails dig into his back painfully.

"Damon, please," she begged, her words now desperate. "Don't go in there. Let's just go."

"Relax," he rumbled. "He won't hurt you. If anyone is about to get injured, it's me. He's not a big fan of my kind."

"All the more reason to get back to the car and−"

"We're not going back outside, sweetness," he ended the discussion. "Now relax."

She didn't. He could feel how tense she was, could feel her racing heartbeat against his back. He couldn't blame her, though. Meeting the God of The Underworld wasn't something humans generally got to do. Not during their lives anyway. And truth be told, Damon wasn't looking forward to it either. But this was what he had to do to keep her safe, so he did it. He walked in that office with his chin raised and a confident smirk on his face.

Hades was still standing by the wrap around window, now facing his visitors, a drink clutched between his long, boney fingers.

Hades wasn't a tall man. He wasn't a broad man. He wasn't a man at all. But everyone who crossed his path, knew he was not to be messed with. Power radiated of him in waves and his eyes, his signature pitch black eyes, seemed to see right through you. They probably did. No one knew exactly what kind of powers the God of the Underworld possessed on Earth, but everyone feared him none the less, especially the vampire community. Hades didn't like being bettered and that's basically what vampires did. They bettered him, defeated him, escaped Death. And Death didn't like it.

"Mister Salvatore," Hades said, an icy lining to his voice. "Long time no see."

Damon remembered the last time he'd met the God. It was the night he'd died, the moment before he'd been brought back to life. Hades had been just as surprised as him, but a whole lot more pissed off.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Klaus."

The God's eyes darkened even more. "Yes, I heard you mention his name to my guard. What about him?"

"He's after me."

"How unfortunate for you."

"I need a place to spend the night, a place where I know nor he nor his Foreboding will show their faces. And since you are probably the only being Klaus fears, I figured this place is perfect."

"And what makes you think I would help you?"

"It would piss Klaus off."

Hades' lips pulled up. "It just so happens I have a room available."

"Perfect."

"And your company?"

Damon put the girl down, but the second her feet touched the ground, she froze. She kept her back turned to Hades, her hands balled up in fists by her side, her heartbeat faster than he'd ever heard it. She was petrified.

"She's shy, your companion."

"She's scared."

"I'm not scared!" she hissed, cursing under her breath as soon as the words had left her mouth.

Damon didn't understand why, not until Hades rumbled, "Elena? Elena Gilbert?"

The girl pressed her eyes shut briefly before she finally turned and said, "Hello, Hades."

* * *

** PLEASE, leave a comment if you liked it/want me to continue this story! It's a tough one to write and your comments are truly what keep me going! Lot more danger/action/romance to come! this is just the introduction to the characters really! Bare with me! **

**xxx LustAndLove**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The silence in the room was heavy, the tension thick, pressing down on everyone present: The God, The Vampire and The Lying Human.

Elena.

Elena Gilbert.

A few minutes ago, he would've rejoiced at the fact that he'd found out her name, but not now. Not anymore. He had other things on his mind.

"Well," Hades said, his lips twitching, his black eyes never leaving Elena's brown ones. "I wasn't expecting to see you again. Not this soon."

"I was _hoping_ the same thing."

The God smiled widely, his eyes actually sparkling as he did so. This girl, this _Elena_, could make The God of The Underworld's eyes sparkle.

Who the hell was she?

"Come on Gilbert," he said, his voice silky smooth. "Haven't you missed me just a little?"

Elena sniffed, but Damon could see the smile pulling at her lips. "What are you doing here, Hades?"

"You know me. I go where hotbeds of paranormal activity reside."

"And this _club_ in _Austria_ is a hotbed?"

"The land underneath it is and since these places are rare and−as you know− I can only take corporeal form where they are, I built this club on top of it."

"It looks nice."

"So do you," Hades said, looking Elena over in a way Damon didn't like. Not at all. "You look positively _blossoming_."

Elena stiffened for a moment. "Wish I could say the same about you. Ever considered getting a spray tan?"

"I might be pale, but I pull it off."

"If you say so."

Hades grinned. "So, you're on the run from Klaus?"

"Yeah, I−"

"_**HOW THE FUCK DO YOU TWO KNOW EACH OTHER?"**_

Damon hadn't meant to yell, but what the fuck! Elena and Hades just kept talking like he wasn't there, not giving him any sort of explanation, ignoring him completely! And if there were two things Damon hated it was being ignored and being lied to! Which is what she'd done! She wasn't a normal girl! A normal girl wouldn't be joking around with a fucking Greek God!

"She hasn't told you?" Hades asked, shooting a clearly nervous Elena a questioning look.

"Would I be asking the fucking question if she had?" Damon snapped, immediately realizing _he_, a vampire, shouldn't be talking to Hades like that.

Those pitch black eyes narrowed on his and then, all he felt was darkness. This cold, empty feeling welled up in his chest, filling his entire being, hollowing him out until he was left with nothing. Grief hit him from every which way, drowning him in pain, in heartache, in emotions he hadn't felt in centuries, emotions he'd turned off for a very good reason.

And then, the screams started. Dozens and dozens of screams filled his head until they distorted together into a high-pitched, deafening screech that made his eardrums shatter. With his mouth opened in a mute scream, Damon pressed his palms to his ears, trying to block it out. But the sound didn't come from the outside, it came from within.

It came from Hades.

He tried to fight the God, but he knew he would lose. His knees were on the verge of buckling, his heart was about to burst out of his chest.

Just as he almost lost consciousness, he heard Elena hiss, "Hades, enough!"

And to Damon's surprise, the God actually listened. His eyes broke away from his, releasing him from whatever hold he'd had on him.

As Damon caught his breath, Hades just smiled and straightened his jacket.

"Yes, you're right, dear," he said, smoothing his black hair back. "Enough fun and games. I have some business to attend to. So, Elena, Damon, Vincent will show you to your rooms."

The bodyguard from earlier nodded at them, gesturing to follow him.

"I have a restaurant in the back," Hades said before they left the room. "I expect the both of you there in an hour."

Elena turned, ready to object, but Hades saw her coming.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist, sweetheart."

That darkness welled up in Damon's chest again, but this time it had nothing to do with something Hades had done, but everything with what Hades had said.

_Sweetheart._

Why did that bother him so much?

"I don't have anything to wear," Elena tried.

"I'll arrange something for you," he smiled, his eyes roaming over her. "You're still the same size I see."

"But−"

"See you then," Hades ended the conversation, turning back to overlook the crowd.

* * *

Damon really wanted to hate the suit Hades had provided him with, but as he stood in front of the full-length mirror in his suite, he had to admit the God had impeccable taste. The grey Alexander Amosu suit fit him perfectly and featured nine 18-carat gold and pave set diamond buttons. Clearly, being the God of The Underworld was a profitable career choice.

There was a knock on the door and before Damon could say _come in_, Vincent entered.

Truth be told, Damon wasn't really in the mood for dinner, but he didn't put up a fight when the guard said _time to go_ and held open the door for him. Because Damon had plans of his own. He was going to use this dinner to find out what the connection was between Hades and this Elena.

And whatever else the girl was hiding from him.

After all, in general, where there was one lie, there was another and another and another. And Damon didn't like being lied to. Especially not by her…to his confusion.

The restaurant was everything Damon had imagined Hades' restaurant to be like. The colors were black and silver, the silverware was shining and expensive and the light came from a handful of giant chandeliers hanging over the tables, the dance floor and the orchestra.

Vincent led him down the grand staircase, passed the tables that were already packed with people, to a table for two right by the dance floor.

"Two?" Damon said, standing by his chair.

"Hades isn't going to make it," the guard simply said. "But he told me to inform you the dinner's on him. So−"

"But Elena's still coming?"

Vincent just smiled and left, leaving Damon alone to wonder why he'd sounded so desperate when he'd asked about her. It's not like he was looking forward to this dinner. With her. Not at all. He was just there for answers, nothing else. He didn't care whether she showed up or not.

And he actually believed that…until he saw her.

If he'd thought she'd been stunning in that bar wearing mere jeans and top, he had no idea just how unbelievably gorgeous she truly was.

But he knew now.

As Damon watched her glide down the stairs, for the first time in centuries, the vampire's heart actually skipped a beat. Her long, straight hair glistened underneath the chandeliers, her golden skin was coated in a scent that drifted down to him from across the room and her dress…God, that dress.

Her perfect figure was being hugged by a deep blue, full length gown with a side cut-out that showed off her perfect waistline and a sweetheart neckline that showed off other delicious attributes. The diamonds that outlined the side cut-out and formed the one shoulder strap matched her diamond bracelet and the long diamond earrings that came peeping out underneath her hair. And when she turned to thank her escort−another of Hades' guards−Damon caught a glimpse of a perfect, bare back.

He didn't realize he was softly growling until Elena reached him and said, "Are you okay?"

Damon cleared his throat, before rumbling. "You look gorgeous."

A little blush crawled to the surface, coloring her cheeks. "It's mostly Hades' doing."

"I don't think Hades could pull off that dress."

She smiled, her eyes smiling along with her lips, making his heart do that skipping-thing again. How did she do that?

"Is this our table?" she asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah," Damon said, trying to snap himself out of whatever was going on inside of him. "Hades couldn't make it."

"Oh."

Was it his imagination or did she _not_ sound completely disappointed?

"So it's just us," he said, wanting to make sure she understood. "You and me."

She shrugged. "Okay."

He was behind her chair, pulling it back, before she could change her mind.

"I wouldn't have pegged you for a gentleman," she sang, sitting down.

"I grew up in an age when there were nothing but gentlemen," Damon responded, sitting down across from her.

"Right, I forgot you're a−" she glanced around. "−you know."

She forgot? How could she _forget_ he's a vampire, a monster? He never forgot. Not for a second.

"How old are you anyway?" she asked, her voice lower.

"Twenty-four."

She cocked an eyebrow.

"A hundred and seventy-two."

"Well, for an old man you can still wear a suit."

_That's her response to that? Who _is_ this girl?_

"It's not mine. Hades had it brought up to me."

"Be sure not to spill anything, then. Knowing Hades, it's probably worth a fortune."

_Knowing Hades…_

That's when Damon remembered he was there for a reason, remembered he was angry at her.

"Speaking off," Damon said, his tone significantly harsher. "How _do_ you know him?"

"Damon," she sighed. "No."

"No?"

"Don't," she said softly. "Can't we just talk?"

"Sure. Let's talk about you lying to me."

"I never lied."

His eyes narrowed. "You know Hades!"

"Did I ever claim I didn't?"

"Okay," he snapped. "Maybe you didn't lie, but you misrepresented yourself!"

"How did I do that?"

"You made me believe you're just some regular, human girl−"

"I _am_ a human girl!" she bit back.

"Not a regular one! No _regular_ human knows Hades! I mean, you're clearly close to him and no one, and I mean no one, is close to the God of The Underworld!"

"How I know Hades is none of your business," she hissed. "So please, drop it."

"None of my business?" he gnarled. "I saved your ass, I'm _still_ saving your ass−"

"I know that!"

"So, I deserve to know, wouldn't you say!"

"No, I wouldn't! This has nothing to do with you and me!"

"I beg to differ! This is why you weren't more freaked out about me being a vampire, isn't it? Because you already knew there was something more out there! You knew about Hades, so−"

Loudly, Elena scrapped her chair back, getting up, glaring. "I just lost my appetite. Goodnight, Salvatore."

She turned, about to walk away when Damon heard himself say, "Wait." His voice was kinder, calmer and he had no idea why. He knew he was right, he knew she should tell him, but above everything else, he knew he wouldn't be able to bear it if she walked away. "Stay."

"No," she snapped. "I don't want to spend the rest of my evening being grilled and yelled at."

"Fine," he said, raising his hands in defeat. "I won't then. I won't grill you. I won't yell. I won't ask about you and Hades again. Just stay."

The arms that had been crossed over her chest dropped, her eyes softened.

"I hate eating alone," he added, gesturing at her chair. "Please."

She let out a deep breath and sat back down, folding her napkin over her lap.

"You're lucky I'm starving," she said, trying to sound annoyed, but not quite pulling it off. "Otherwise, I would've been out of here."

"I'm sure," he said, grinning. "Elena."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be so smug, mister Salvatore. You were _told_ my name, you didn't figure it out yourself."

"I would've eventually."

"I doubt it."

God, she was stubborn. He generally didn't like that trade in people, but with her, it was kind of charming, kind of _sweet_.

"So, _Elena_," he said, her name rolling of his tongue. "What does it mean?"

"It means sun ray," she sniffed. "Shining light."

"You don't like it?"

"I don't think it fits me."

"You're crazy," he rumbled. "It fits you perfectly."

Why did he say things like that around her? Sure, it was true−she was a light in the darkness−but he never said mushy stuff like that.

He didn't regret it, though. The way her eyes melted into his with that warm smile on her lips made it worth sounding like a fool.

"Thank you," she whispered. "But you wouldn't say that if you really knew me."

"Try me."

Her smile dropped.

"Okay, okay, sorry," he hurried. "No grilling. Let's just order."

"I don't know what I'm in the mood for," she said opening the black, velvet menu. "You?"

He smiled when her eyes found him. "Are you offering?"

"You might as well let go of that illusion now," Elena said, strict. "I will never, ever, let you drink from me."

"Never say never."

"I _am_ saying never! Read my lips, NEVER!"

"Fine," Damon sighed dramatically. "I guess I'm going for the steak, then."

"Let me guess. Bloody?"

* * *

Elena Gilbert was astonishing.

He knew she was gorgeous, but after spending over four hours with her at the same table, he realized she wasn't just pretty, she was smart, too.

And funny as hell.

Damon had never had such a long conversation with anyone without being bored out of his skull, but there was never a dull moment with Elena.

He kept the conversation casual, though, never asked her anything about her past, about Hades and yet there hadn't been a moment of silence. Damon had told her about the things he'd seen, the things he'd experienced over the ages and she actually knew what he was talking about. The girl knew her history and listened intrigued when he told her about all the fascinated−and by now dead−people he'd met. Like Lincoln, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Oscar Wilde, H.G. Wells, Vincent Van Gogh, Queen Victoria, Thomas Edison and so many more. Now, as they ate dessert, they were on serial killers.

"There's no way in hell," Elena said, her fork digging into the moelleux de chocolat. "I don't believe you."

"I swear to God," Damon laughed, cracking the caramelized crust on his crème brûlée.

"A woman?" Elena said, little wrinkles appearing on her forehead. "Jack The Ripper was a woman?"

"Yup."

"But, its _Jack_ The Ripper. Not _Jackie_ The Ripper."

"And yet, it's true. Even Inspector Abberline, the Inspector on the case, suggested it . He believed it could be a midwife since they had the surgical knowledge and skill that The Ripper displayed."

"That doesn't prove anything," she said, bringing a little piece of the chocolate treat to her mouth. He watched the dessert slipping between her lips and in his entire life, he'd never seen anything sexier than those red lips parting ever so slightly.

"Okay, how about this: in victim number four's, Mary Kelly's, fireplace the police found burned women's clothes. They assumed it were Mary Kelly's but later the possibility was raised that they were the killer's clothes and The Ripper put on Mary Kelly's garments to escape. So, again, woman."

"Five."

Damon frowned. "What?"

"Mary Kelly was number five."

"No, I'm pretty sure−"

"August 31st: Mary Ann Nichols, " she began, ticking them off on her fingers. "September 8th: Annie Chapman, September 30th: Elizabeth Stride _and_ Catherine Eddowes and then finally, on November 9th: Mary Jane Kelly. Off course, those are the generally excepted victims. There are thirteen more alleged once."

Damon leaned back in his chair, impressed, a corner of his lips pulling up in a half smile. "How do you know that?"

She shrugged, sipping from her red wine. "The case always fascinated me. I mean, the man was never caught. And he just stopped killing from one day to the next."

"_The man_ didn't just stop. She died."

"Oh, did _she_," Elena sang, smiling. "And you know that _how_?"

"I killed her."

Elena's smile dropped, her eyes piercing his. "You're lying."

Damon just stared back, smiling wickedly.

"You're not lying. The Ripper was _really_ a woman?"

"And a very unattractive one at that."

"And you killed her?"

"The Ripper was becoming more notorious than me. I couldn't have that."

"Right," she sang. "So it had nothing to do with wanting to stop a murderer? With protecting the women in Whitechapel?"

"As much as I love prostitutes, no."

She leaned back, sniffing and for a moment Damon was sure the sniff had everything to do with the disapproval of what he'd done, with the blasé way he'd talked about murdering someone.

And then she said to Damon's surprise. "God, it must've been so fascinating experiencing all these different things, meeting these famous people, being around when history was made. I can't even imagine."

_That's it? I just told her I'm a killer and she doesn't even address it? Who _is_ this girl?"_

"Although, I suppose living forever gets lonely."

_It does._ "I like being alone."

"Really," she said, her brows furrowing.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Damon tipped his head to the side, his eyes glued to hers. "Oh, come on. If you have something to say−"

"It's just that, I don't think anyone could live as long as you have _without_ getting lonely."

"I don't like people, so it's easy."

"Then why am I here?"

"You're different."

"I'm not."

"Trust me, you are."

She just smiled and it didn't escape him that for the first time, she didn't snap _I don't trust, remember_. Instead, her smile dropped and those big, brown eyes drifted to a point behind him.

"What?" Damon asked, following her gaze.

"That woman," she whispered. "She keeps looking over here."

"I know," Damon grinned. "She's been talking about you for a while now. She doesn't like your dress as much as I do."

"She doesn't?"

"She thinks it's not…virtues."

Elena huffed, squirming uncomfortably in her seat. "I didn't pick it. Hades did."

"Don't worry about her," Damon rumbled, leaning closer. "In this world, either you're virtuous or you enjoy yourself. Not both, lady, not both."

Elena cocked an eyebrow, smiling. "Came up with that yourself, did you?"

"Actually, it's a quote from a book," Damon admitted. "_Atlas Shrugged_."

"Atlas Shrugged, huh?"

"Yeah, it's this book by Ayn Rand about a dystopian United States where many of society's most productive citizens refuse to be exploited by increasing taxation and government regulations, so they disappear, shutting down their vital industries. Basically, the book explores a number of philosophical themes−" he trailed off, shaking his head. "Sorry, boring."

"No," Elena hurried. "It's not."

"You're being kind. It's one of the most difficult books in English literature, so−"

"−so I wouldn't know what you're talking about?" she said, her eyes narrowing a little, but her smile still steady on her lips.

"There's no shame in it," Damon said, shrugging. "Like I said, it's a very difficult book. Not many people can tackle it."

"Mmmm," she sang, finishing her wine.

"So, how's the alcohol treating you?" he changed the subject. "Getting drunk yet?"

"No. Why do you ask? Planning on taking advantage?"

"Saucy," he laughed. "And yes. But that's no why I asked. I just wanted to point out that if you can drink that much wine without getting drunk, you can handle a scotch. Just in case you ever want to graduate from smelling to drinking."

She rolled her eyes, amused. "I've drunk scotch before. I don't like the taste."

"But you like the smell."

"It reminds me of something."

"Of what?"

"Home."

"Alcohol makes you think of home? Sounds kind of dysfunctional."

She laughed, her curls bouncing on her chest. "It's not dysfunctional. My dad just had this routine where, after dinner, he drank one scotch in front of the fireplace. I used to sit there with him, telling him about my day, about my life and he listened. He gave me advice and he just _listened_ and−" she trailed off, cocking an eyebrow. "Why am I telling you this?"

Damon kept quiet as he stared back at her. He didn't answer her question, because the truth was he didn't know why she'd told him. Was it not _she_ who'd made him promise not to ask about her past, about her life? And now, only a few hours later, she was opening up. Just a little, but still.

"You're lucky, you know," Damon broke the silence. "Whenever _I_ saw my dad there wasn't a lot of listening involved. He just told me what a huge disappointment I was and went off to praise my brother's glory."

"I'm sure that's not true."

Damon sniffed, taking a gulp from his own drink. "It is. _I_ was the mistake, my brother was the saint. It's ironic it was eventually Saint Stefan who ripped the man's throat out."

Her eyes softened on his. "Your brother killed your father?"

"In his defense, our father killed both of us, so−"

"I'm sorry?" she hissed. "He did what?"

"Yeah, he shot us."

Her mouth hanging open, she leaned back in her chair, softly shaking her head. "That asshole."

Damon smiled, a warmth inside of him spreading to his every pore. He'd never had anyone feel angry _for_ him instead of _at_ him.

"Everything turned out alright, though," Damon added. "We had vampire blood in our system and we turned."

"And then Stefan killed your father."

"And went on a killing spree for a couple of decades."

"And yet, you claim _you're_ the evil brother?"

"That's the general opinion, yes."

"It's not my opinion."

"It should be."

She rolled her eyes. "Why do you insist on making me believe you're this evil _thing_?"

"Because I am. Because I want you to know−"

"Want me to know what?"

"−who I truly am," he finished, more confused by the statement than she was.

"Why?" she whispered.

He shook his head. "I don't know."

His words lingered in the air for a few minutes before she said, "Here's what _I_ know, Damon Salvatore. You are _not_ evil. You've been told so many times, by so many people that you are, that you've started to believe it, even live by it. And there's no doubt in my mind that you _have_ done some evil things, but in your core, in the deepest depth of your being, there's not a trace of evil to be found. I can sense it when you talk to me. You just have to find your way back to that pure part, cast off this image, this wall you've created and let yourself be."

"I'll let my wall down if you let down yours."

Her face hardened. "My wall is different."

"Different how?"

"Yours is there to hide behind. Mine is to protect me."

"Protect you from what?"

"Myself."

"Yourself?"

"I tend to make the wrong decisions when this wall isn't up, tend to trust the wrong people."

"I thought you didn't trust."

"I don't. Not anymore."

"Thanks to the wall."

She just stared at him and he could almost see her thinking that same question she'd asked herself earlier: _why am I telling him this?_

"So," Damon went on, knowing she was about to shut down again, but desperate to know more. "Who was it?"

"Who was what?"

"The man who broke your heart."

"The man who broke my heart?" she laughed, shaking her head. "I'm not some stereotype girl who got dumped and is now forever bitter and destined to die with her cats. He didn't break my heart."

"No," Damon said, recognizing something in her eyes. "He _didn't_ break your heart, did he? He broke all of you." A rage built up in his chest when he growled, "What did he do to you?"

"I should go."

She was already on her feet before he could stop her.

"Oh," Damon huffed, glaring up at her. "So you can analyze _me_, but I can't do the same to you? That's fair."

"Goodnight, Damon." She turned, that tanned, smooth back making him grab his chair tighter, trying to stop himself from getting up and grabbing her.

"Oh, before I forget," she said, turning back, glaring. "_Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark in the hopeless swamps of the not-quite, the not-yet, and the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish in lonely frustration for the life you deserved and have never been able to reach. The world you desire can be won. It exists.. it is real.. it is possible.. it's yours._"

For the first time in a very long time, Damon was actually speechless. All he could do was stare at her, trying to keep his jaw from slackening.

"I read _Atlas Shrugged_ when I was fifteen," she hissed.

"And memorized it?"

"I didn't say I read it _once_," she snapped. "Analyze that. Goodnight, mister Salvatore."

She walked away and although he hadn't consciously decided to do so, Damon found himself stalking after her, grabbing her hand. She looked back at him over her shoulder, her eyes drifting down to where their hands met. And as her eyes softened, his anger melted away.

"Dance with me," Damon whispered, those hazelnut eyes making his chest hurt somehow.

"No," she whispered, her voice not at all matching with her following statement, which was, "I'm mad at you."

"It wasn't a question."

Slowly, he pulled her deeper into the room. She followed, no objections, her eyes still piercing his as they glided onto the shiny, black dance floor.

He kept her hand in his, raising it until it rested over his heart and yet, it was _her_ heart that skipped a beat. Her free hand found its way around his arm until she placed it on his shoulder. The move forced her body against his, made her curves rest against his chest, made his pants grow tighter. Swallowing hard, he slipped his hand over the exposed skin by her side. Her breath grew shallow as he slid that hand further to the nape of her back. The smell off blood flooded her cheeks as Damon initiate the slow dance. The feel of her body rubbing against his made his entire being ignite in a way it hadn't ignited in ages. His heart thundered, his muscles turned to mush and he'd never, ever been so turned on by anyone. Her smell, her skin, her curves… She did him in and he hated and loved it at the same time. It had been so long since he'd felt anything but anger and hate. To feel _this_, whatever it was, was extraordinary.

"You can really piss me off, you know," Damon breathed, his nose buried in her hair.

"I know," she simply replied, her breath feathering his ear. "God, I shouldn't be doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Dance. With you."

"Why not?"

She took a deep breath, her breast pushing harder against his chest. "I haven't danced in a very long time."

"Don't worry," he growled, his fingers stroking her back. "You're perfect."

She shivered in his embrace, her slim fingers clutching his tighter. The sweet sound of violins filled the room as Damon ducked his head down ever so slightly, his nose lingering only inches from her neck. Breathing her in, something in his chest hurt. But it was a good hurt. A very good hurt.

And then she rested her cheek against his and his stomach felt like it got hit by lightning. Thousands of sparks rippled through him at the feel of her warm cheek against his, her skin against his, her hair feathering his neck.

And in that moment, he knew.

He knew why he hadn't just abandoned her in Venice and run off, leaving her to deal with Klaus herself.

He knew why he felt this constant need to be close to her, to keep her safe.

He knew.

But what he knew, was unacceptable. What he knew, could never be. Not for him. He was Damon Salvatore. He was dangerous. He was reckless. He was evil. He had enemies in every country, in every town. He moved from place to place, bound to no one, leaving behind bodies, leaving behind death. He was free to do whatever he wanted to whoever he wanted. He answered to no one and no one could stop him. And that's how he wanted it. Which is why this thing he knew, this inexplicable thing, had to be pushed back, nipped in the butt.

Now.

So, without warning and without looking back, Damon found himself storming off that dance floor and out of that room, as far away from her as he could.

Because there was no way in hell, he would ever allow himself to be in love with Elena Gilbert.

* * *

**As always, PLEASE, let me know what you think! Your reviews keep the story alive! And there's so much more ahead! xxxxx LustAndLove**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! Before you start the new chapter, I'm going to answer the two most asked questions about this story:**

**1) YES, there will be a 'new' story after this one from Elena's POV (and it will answer a lot of questions), but right now, I want to keep the mystery that is Elena. Damon finding out about her past is sort of the fun.**

**2) No, Katherine plays no part whatsoever in this story. In fact, she never even existed in this universe. So, the fact that Damon is so drawn to Elena has nothing to do with his past with Katherine, since there is none. **

**That's it. Enjoy! It's a shorter chapter, but that's because I'm working on a long (and vital) one to follow up.**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

The door slammed shut behind him, the deafening sound of it bouncing of the walls as he clutched his hair. His chest heaved at a maddening pace, his heart raced uncontrollably. His face was red, his eyes pitch-black, his fangs pushing to break through.

_This girl,_ a voice in his head growled. _She did this to me. She got under my skin. You _let her_ under your skin, you idiot._

Snarling, Damon shoved his hand against the oak closet, splintering it into a zillion pieces against the wall.

"Are we feeling a tad frustrated?"

Damon hadn't even noticed the presence in his room. He'd been too distracted.

_She_ had distracted him.

Yet another reason to get this crazy notion of _feeling_ _anything_ for her out of his head. He had to be alert at all times, especially now that Klaus had picked up his scent. He couldn't afford any distractions, no matter how beautiful and funny they are.

"Get out, Hades," he snarled, glaring at the God who was lounging on his bed, his hands folded behind his head.

"This is my place, so I don't think I'll be doing that."

"What the fuck do you want?"

The God sighed, getting up on his feet. "Salvatore, please, do _not_ forget who you're talking to. I ignored your rudeness before since you're clearly on edge, but twice is my limit."

Damon's hands balled up in fist, but he bit his tongue nevertheless.

"And to answer your question," Hades continued. "I just came to check how dinner went. Although, by the looks of it, I'd say not so great." A mocking smile spread on his lips. "Or maybe it went a little _too_ well."

Damon kept quiet, a move that made Hades light up.

"Oh, this is priceless," The God laughed, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. "Though, not surprising."

"Want to tell me what you're talking about?" Damon snapped, his anger still raging.

"Elena."

How could just the sound of her name trigger a bodily response?

"What about her?" Damon bluffed, watching Hades' smile widen.

"She's extraordinary, isn't she? Unique."

Damon ignored him, shrugging off his suit jacket. He wasn't going to have this conversation, not with Hades, not with anyone.

"Seriously, Hades, it's late. I'd like to get some sleep."

"Oh, I see. You're going to be an idiot."

"Excuse me?"

"You're Damon Salvatore," Hades hissed, sitting down on the metal chair, leaning back in it with his eyes hard on Damon's. "Imagine what it would be like to _let yourself_ love this girl, to open up. Why, that would be simply unacceptable. What if she denied you? What if she didn't feel the same? Can you conceive the pain? The consequences of opening up for the first time in centuries, letting all those suppressed feelings in and then being shot down by the same person you made yourself vulnerable for?"

Damon snorted, but on the inside, his stomach was clutching for some reason.

"Or worse," Hades continued, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. "What if she loved you right back? Can you imagine what it would mean if you _got the girl_? If someone saw you for who you are, the darkness and all, and still thought you were worth loving? What would _that_ do to the infamous Damon Salvatore? The days of killing and fucking everything in sight would be over. This girl would become your world, your everything, your one weakness. And you wouldn't even mind."

"I've known her for forty-eight hours!" Damon bit out.

"You say that like time means something," Hades laughed. " Time means nothing, Damon. You should know that."

"Be that as it may, I don't _love_ this Elena. She's stubborn and irrational and−"

"−kind and accepting and breathtakingly beautiful?" The God mocked. "Yeah, you're right, what's there to love?"

And then Damon saw something in The God's eyes he should've seen before. "You love her. _You_ love Elena."

Hades just stared at him, unmoving, not a trace of emotion on his pale face.

"Then why are you doing this?" Damon asked, intrigued. "Why would you encourage me to pursue her."

"Let's just say that certain events need to come to pass for other events to come to pass and I really want those latter events to come to pass."

"Thanks for clearing that up," Damon sniffed, trying to sound unimpressed. However, the truth was that little alarm bells were going off in his head. There was just something about this whole situation that didn't sit right with him. Why would Death be interested in him and Elena?

"Well, sorry to disappoint you," Damon added. "But it's never going to happen. I won't let it happen."

Hades smiled, shaking his head. "You mortals are all the same. You think you actually have a say in these things. In the beginning of time it was funny, but centuries later, this repeating pattern is just pathetic and boring."

"I'm not mortal. I _have_ a say."

Before Damon knew what was happening, The God stood only inches from him…his hand shoved inside his chest.

"Do not be naive, Salvatore," Hades hissed, his cold fingers enveloping Damon's heart, making him scream out in pain. "You're just as mortal as the blood bags you feed on. You're just harder to kill. But it's not impossible."

Hades' fingers dug deeper into his aching heart, his nails scraping the tissue. In that moment, Damon was sure that was it, that The God was going to rip his heart right out of his chest, that he would die right there. And to his utmost horror, there was only one thing he could think of.

Her.

But before Damon could dig deeper into whatever he was feeling, Hades let go of him, leaving him only with the feeling of excruciating pain.

Whimpering, Damon crumbled to his knees, trying to somehow focus his mind on anything else but the gaping hole in his chest.

"Now, I think I got my point across," Hades said, using Damon's shirt to wipe the blood of his arm. "Goodnight, mister Salvatore."

And then, The God was gone, leaving Damon even more confused than he already was to begin with.

* * *

Damon hadn't slept a wink. Not only had the healing process of his chest been agonizing, his mind had refused to shut down as well. His every thought kept dwelling to Elena and how he was going to deal with being around her. In the end, he'd simply decided to deal with her the same way he dealt with everyone else: distant, cold, like he couldn't give a fuck. So by the time the morning came, Damon had reinforced that wall inside of him and there was no way anyone was going to sneak past it, no matter how many times some God rammed a fist through his chest.

"−wrong, Hades."

Damon stilled on the stairs at the sound of Elena's voice. He wasn't a big fan of eavesdropping, but he still found himself holding his breath and sharpening his senses.

"Come on, dear," Hades chimed. "You and I both know I'm never wrong."

She laughed and Damon found himself smiling along. Until he realized he'd decided not to be affected by her anymore. Not her laugh, not her beauty, not her charm.

"Just be careful, Elena," Hades said, his voice serious. "Klaus is smart and he has eyes everywhere."

"I have Damon."

His heart jumped. But it wasn't because of what she'd said or the way her voice had softened when she'd said it. No, it couldn't have anything to do with that. It was just arrhythmia, his heart recovering from the night before. Nothing more.

"Be careful with him, too. With the Salvatore brother," Hades said, making Damon's heartbeat return to normal. "He can turn on you."

"Just hug me and shut up."

When Damon could hear their clothes rubbing together, he continued his path downstairs, making sure they heard him coming this time. He didn't exactly want to see them embrace.

Unfortunately, you don't always get what you want.

Elena still had her arms wrapped around Hades' neck and The God had his around her waist, holding her close, his nose buried in her hair.

If he hadn't decided not to care, he'd probably be pissed off at that point.

Hades opened his eyes, looking right at him as he let go of Elena, a little knowing smile on his lips. Elena didn't smile, though. She seemed embarrassed, her eyes on the floor, her hands shoved in the jeans she'd worn when they'd met. But she wasn't wearing the same top. Instead of the black top, she was now wearing a tight, red sweater that was more suitable for the temperature. He hadn't packed it for her, though, so it was probably a gift from Hades.

"Mister Salvatore," The God said, forcing him to take his eyes off the girl he shouldn't be looking at in the first place. "Would you like some breakfast? Elena and I already had some, but I'm sure my chefs could whip something up for you."

"No thanks," Damon snapped. "We need to use every minute of daylight to get as far away from here as we can."

"Off course, I understand. There are only so many hours of sunlight in a day," The God said, bowing. "It was _interesting_ seeing you again, Damon."

Damon just snorted.

The God then turned to Elena, taking her hand in his to press a little kiss to the back of it. "And it was a _pleasure_ to see you again, Elena Gilbert."

"Bye, Hades," she said, squeezing his hand. "Try to be good."

"Never. And remember, if you ever need me, I'm right beneath you."

"That's not creepy at all," Damon mumbled as he headed for the door, Elena's light footsteps trailing after him.

* * *

"You know, for someone who's a hundred and seventy-two, you sure act like a child."

Damon suppressed the urge to smile, ignoring her once again.

"We've been driving for over eleven hours, we've crossed two borders, we're in freaking Poland and you haven't said one single word. Now, will you just tell me why you're angry so we can talk it out?"

"I'm not angry," Damon said, impassive.

"Oh, really?" Elena snapped. "Then care to explain why you ran off last night? Why you left me on that dance floor without a word?"

"I had things to do."

"And you had to do them at that very minute?"

"Yes."

"Right," she sighed, shaking her head. "And I'm supposed to believe that this has nothing to do with Hades and I?"

"I don't _care_ what you believe, Elena," Damon snarled, his voice harsh. "I don't care about you and Hades. I don't care about your past together, I don't care about your relationship now−"

"We don't have a relationsh−"

"In fact, I don't care, period," Damon cut her off. "Not about him and not about you."

Elena's eyes finally stopped boring into him and drifted back to the open road. As she leaned back in her seat, he dared to glance at her for the first time since they'd left Hades' club.

God, why did she have to be so goddamned gorgeous? Her thick hair was gathered over one shoulder, leaving one side of her slim neck uncovered, exposed. He could see the veins there pounding, pumping which reminded him he really had to eat something. Soon.

"You should be happy," Damon said calmly. "I'm basically saying you were right."

"Right about what?"

"Us."

"Us?"

"Yes, us. You said from the beginning that you weren't going to tell me about yourself and you had the right idea. Why should we get to know each other? When we arrive in Paris, I drop you off at the safe house and be on my way again. What's the point of digging into each other's lives?" he paused, trying to read her eyes, but they gave nothing away, there was no reaction whatsoever. She just stared back at him, frowning.

"So," he continued. "From now on, we're just two strangers heading in the same direction, nothing more."

"So let me get this straight," she whispered, an edge to her normally soft voice. "You went from _dance with me_ to _strangers heading in the same direction_ in one night?"

"Basically."

"And it's a coincidence that this change of heart happened right after you found out Hades and I know each other?"

"Change of _heart_?" Damon snarled, an icy lining to his words. "Elena, I don't _have_ a heart."

"Yes you do. I felt it last night. Beating."

An image of Elena pressed against him−her scent invading his senses, her touch sending his body in overdrive−almost made him pull the car over, but he blocked the memory, pushing it back until he could breath again.

"This thing pumping inside of my chest might work," Damon bit out. "But it's useless. I don't need it, in any way. Not to live and certainly not as a link to any emotion. That's why vampires are superior to humans, Elena. We don't feel. We are better than that. We are better than you."

"Superior," she hissed, a sad smile pulling at her lips. "You know what, you're right. We're strangers and we'll stay strangers. It's best that way."

"Good."

"Good."

"_Good_. We're here."

The car had barely stopped or Elena was out of it, slamming the door closed a lot rougher than last time.

"That hotel?" she asked, pointing at the wooden building that stood in the middle of a foggy, Polish landscape.

Damon nodded and she stormed off, the sun setting behind her.

By the time Damon had followed her through the door, Elena was already in conversation with the woman behind the reception.

"I didn't know you spoke Polish," he said, putting down the two suitcases.

"How could you?" Elena snapped. "Strangers, remember."

"Right," Damon snapped back. Clearly, Elena had decided to reinforce those walls inside, too. Good. That would make _his_ mission a lot easier.

"I already got us two rooms," she continued in that hard voice, shoving a key in his hand. "I got the King Suite on the top floor, you got a spare room in the barn out back. And with room, I mean a haystack and a horse."

Damon glared at her, clutching the key painfully.

"Oh, relax. I'm just kidding."

He sniffed relieved.

"There's no horse." She smiled wickedly as Damon's blood began to boil.

"I'm not sleeping in a barn, Gilbert!"

"Well, I'm afraid you'll have to, Salvatore. They're fully booked."

"Okay," he barked. "Then how about I take the suite and you hit the hay, since I'm paying and all."

"See, I would, but as you pointed out so rightfully earlier, your kind is superior to us simple humans. What's a night in a drafty barn for such a marvelous creature? Off course, if you're willing to admit you were full of bullshit earlier and really can't even go one night without a bed and a shower, I might consider sharing the Suite since it takes up the whole upper floor."

"It's not bullshit," Damon spit out. "We _are_ better."

"Okay," she sang even though the anger was evident in her eyes. "Goodnight, then."

And with that, she headed up the stairs, suitcase in hand, leaving him to pay the bill.

* * *

**What did you think? Please let me know and keep the story alive. Also, please know I'm only building up the story right now. Those of you who've read my previous story, know that I need a 'realistic' build up before things get...interesting. I simply can't go from _Hi, I'm Elena_ to _Take me now, you stud _in one chapter ;-)! Love to hear from you! Xxx LustAndLove**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Damon had always believed there was no one in the world who was more strong-willed than him. That when it came to willpower, he had no competition.

And then he'd met Elena Gilbert.

Three days had passed since she'd sent him to sleep in that barn.

Three days since they'd spend any time together outside of the car.

Three days since they'd even talked.

They'd hit Slovakia, not a word.

The Czech Republic, nada.

He was impressed and pissed off at the same time by her tenacity, but he'd be damned if he let her outplay him at his own game.

She stirred beside him, her head resting against the window. She'd been asleep for hours and he hadn't been surprised when she'd drifted off. He'd noticed the exhaustion on her face, the bags under her eyes. She wasn't sleeping well. Not at night anyway. Now, she was in a deep slumber, her long side braid resting on her chest which was slowly rising and falling.

He'd turned off the radio as soon as he'd noticed she was falling asleep, telling himself it was so she wouldn't wake up, but the truth was he preferred the sound of her breathing over anything the radio could produce. It soothed him, but he forbade himself to analyze that fact.

His phone buzzed in his pocket just as he turned a corner. He retrieved it gracefully. Driving with one hand wasn't exactly a challenge for a vampire.

"Salvatore," he said, keeping his voice down as to not wake Elena.

"Damon, where the hell are you?"

"Brother," Damon sighed. "And a good morning to you, too."

"What the fuck are you doing, Damon? Where are you?"

"Why?"

"_Why_?" Stefan boomed. "You have no idea what's going on, do you?"

Damon frowned, checking if the girl beside him was still fast asleep. No need to alarm her.

"What's going on?"

"The Foreboding are working overtime, Damon. Sources are reporting back that Klaus is sending them all out into the world. He never does that. He always keeps some around. Now, I'm not sure, but since they chose burning down our house in Venice as their first mission, I'm thinking you have something to do with this!"

"I−"

"What did you do, Damon!"

"Nothing!" he shouted, making Elena shift in her seat. Her eyes remained closed, though.

"Nothing?" Stefan sniffed. "So, this is just a coincidence?"

"I didn't do anything, Stefan. I wasn't parading down the streets shouting _come and get me, Foreboding_. I kept a low profile."

"But they found you anyway, didn't they?"

His silence said it all.

"Damn it, Damon," Stefan sighed. "I knew this would happen! Come home! Come back to Paris!"

"Actually, we're already on our way."

"I'm sorry, did you just say _we_?"

_Oh, you stupid idiot! _He thought, kicking himself over the head.

"Yeah, I did actually," he admitted, bracing himself.

"You're bringing someone?" Stefan fumed. "Are you kidding me, Damon? You're bringing someone to our safe house? Our secret, underground safe house?"

"I have no choice."

"Off course you do! Leave whoever is with you and get your ass over here!"

He glanced at her again, hating himself when he gnarled, "I can't do that."

"Why the hell not?"

"It's my fault she's in this mess."

"She?" Stefan hissed. "Jesus Christ, Damon! This is not the time to bring one of your compelled, slutty trophies along for the ride!"

"She's not a compelled, slutty trophy," he barked into the phone. "She's…I'm not sure what she is, but I'm not leaving her. Klaus thinks he can use her against me−"

"−but he's wrong! And he'll realize that and leave her alone!"

Damon's eyes found her again.

"Unless he _can_ use her," Stefan said, his voice significantly softer. "Damon, does this girl mean something to you?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Stefan," Damon snarled. "Off course she doesn't mean something to me. It's _me_, remember. I don't feel anything, for anyone. I just don't want to be the reason Klaus kills this girl, which is what he'll do when he realizes she's useless."

"Right."

The way Stefan said that made Damon clutch the phone tighter. His brother clearly didn't believe him and quite frankly, he couldn't blame him. He was barely convincing himself.

"Listen, Damon−"

Damon never found out what he was about to say, because before Stefan could finish his sentence…she screamed.

Her lungs out.

Damon swirled the car of the road, his phone dropping, his heart racing.

Her entire body twitched like she was having a seizure. Her fists were hitting the car, her head was thrashing back and forth.

"Elena!" he yelled, grabbing her shoulders as soon as the car came to a full stop. "Elena, damn it, wake up!"

She did, immediately. Her breath was labored, her eyes were red and teary and for the first time, he didn't see one ounce of fight or strength in them. Only despair and pain.

Lots of it.

"Elena?" he whispered, her bewildered expression pulling at strings he didn't know he had. "What's wrong?"

It seemed like she was about to say something, but before she did, her eyes widened and she busted out of his car.

Damon followed and found her by the side of the road, hunching over some bushes. He kept his distance, but he could tell she was throwing up and her heart was still pumping way too fast for a human. What had she dreamed about that was so bad?

After a few minutes, she straightened up and he could actually hear her pulling herself together. Her heartbeat steadied. Her breath came out in regular puffs and her face flooded with color and strength again. Damon couldn't help but wonder if that's what he looked like too when he pulled up those walls inside.

"Are you okay?" he yelled when she just stood there, not moving at all.

She didn't answer, she didn't even look at him. Instead, she walked further down the road, heading straight for the big sign that read _Denny's_.

* * *

"Did you see a girl come in here?" he asked the first hostess he saw.

"Bathroom," she hurried, rushing off in the other direction, her arms full of menus.

By the time Damon had reached the bathroom, Elena came storming out, almost bumping right into him. She still looked frazzled, though he could see she'd attempted to cover up her little breakdown from earlier. She'd tidied her braid, splashed water in her face and he could smell toothpaste on her breath. There was probably one of those machines with tiny toothbrushes in there.

"Are you okay?"

"Sure," she said, way too chipper. "You?"

He pushed back the feeling that welled up in his chest when she spoke for the first time in days. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he'd actually missed the sound of her voice. Was that possible?

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine. I wasn't the one throwing up in-"

"Hey, are you hungry?" she asked, glancing over his shoulder at the dining area.

"Not really," he said, trying to capture her eyes again, but failing. "We should keep driving until−"

"Me too. Let's eat."

She pushed past him and headed straight for a free booth in the corner. Damon didn't like being ignored, but he followed her anyway, his curiosity taking over. She wasn't acting like herself and he wanted to know why.

"Is it too late for pancakes, you think?"

Damon frowned, sitting down opposite from her. "Never. What are you doing?"

"Deciding what to eat," she said, never looking up from her menu.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"French toast sounds good, too, though."

"Elena−"

"I died."

Suddenly, it felt like everything inside Damon shut down. His heart stopped beating. His breath caught in his throat. His stomach clenched.

Off all the things to just blur out.

"What?"

"I died," she repeated. "That's how I know Hades. I died."

"You died?" he said, cocking an eyebrow.

"What?" she snapped, her deep, brown eyes piercing his now.

"Nothing. It's just, I died, too. I met Hades, too. And I know for a fact that when you die, you only get a few moments, two or three minutes tops, before you either stay there or are brought back. Now, since you're here, I take it you were brought back and you two seemed to have spent more time together than only a few minutes. I'm certainly not on hugging-terms with him."

"Come on, Salvator," she whispered. "You can figure this one out. Don't make me say it."

"I don't−"

And then, all words left him.

Because he knew.

He knew why she knew Hades so well.

He knew why they were close.

"You didn't die just once, did you?"

Elena just stared at him, her eyes full of something he couldn't read.

"What happened?"

She shook her head, her eyes dropping. "That doesn't matter."

_Doesn't matter?_ His mind screamed. _How can it not matter?_ _How can it not matter what happened to her? What _killed_ her?_

"Why are you telling me this, then?" he barked. "If you're not going to explain what happened, why even bring this up?"

"Because I'm about to ask you something and knowing you, you wouldn't answer unless I told you about Hades in return."

She was right and he hated it. How did she do that? There were people who'd been trying to figure him out for decades and they still didn't get him. How had she managed to figure him out in only a few days?

"What do you want to know?"

"The plan," she said, giving him a stern look. "I need to know the plan. I need to know how you're going to take Klaus down."

"Why now?"

She swallowed hard, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. Now, Damon knew a thing or two about Elena, too and twirling hair meant she was nervous.

"Elena?" Damon asked again. "Why now?"

"He−" she trailed off, clearing her throat.

"What?"

"He's in my head."

"Who is?"

"Klaus."

Damon smiled sympathetically. "Off course he is. We're on the run from him. It's normal that you're scared and having nightmares."

"No," she whispered, her eyes soft on his. "He's literally slipping inside my head at night."

Once again, Damon's stomach clenched. "Why do you think that?"

"I don't _think_, I _know_. I can feel the difference. And he talks to me."

"What does he say?" Damon snarled, that monster inside roaring once more.

Elena squirmed in her seat, her fingers finding her hair again.

"Elena?"

"He says he'll find us," she said, a tremor in her voice. "He says he'll make us pay for thinking we could escape him. And I believe him."

"Elena, I swear−"

"Don't," she cut him off, smiling weakly. "Don't swear anything. Just tell me how you're going to stop him."

"This isn't the time or place−"

"It's day. It's Denny's. There are no Klaus-spies here. Please, just tell me. For my peace of mind."

He could see how desperate she was to get her answers, how much she needed it, and Damon understood why. Having Klaus in her head had to be horrifying. But he couldn't give her what she wanted. If it was just his life on the line, he would tell her in a heartbeat, but there were so many vampires out there who depended on this plan, who needed it to work.

"Elena," Damon said, his voice soft. "If he's in your head, it's not safe. You have no idea how important it is for Klaus to stay in the dark about our intentions. If he finds out, we're screwed."

"I need to know," she begged. "Please. I need to know this will work."

"It will."

"And if it won't?"

"It will."

"But if it won't?" she persisted, her eyes hard.

"Then I'll find another way to keep you safe."

Her gaze softened, but the worry never left. "I'll never be safe with Klaus out there."

Was that fear in her eyes? Something told him Klaus did more than just talk to her in those dreams.

"I'm not letting him near you, Elena," Damon snarled.

Elena shot him a weak, grateful smile. "Thank you, but you might not have a choice. He's older. He's stronger. He has an army."

Apparently, Klaus was very chatty in her dreams.

"He's trying to scare you."

"It's working," she whispered. "Please, tell me the plan so I can at least have some hope."

"I want to, Elena," he said, shaking his head softly.

"But you can't," she mumbled, sinking back against the booth.

"Sorry to keep you waiting!"

Damon gave the waitress a little smile.

"We're just swamped today," she continued, taking out her notepad. "What can I get you two?"

"Pancakes," Damon said when it didn't look like Elena was going to order. She just sat there, deep in thought.

"And also French toast, Belgian waffles and two maple bacon milkshakes," he added, trying to cheer her up.

It didn't work.

"Alright," the chesty redhead chimed, scribbling everything down. "Thank you very much."

As the waitress walked away, Damon noticed Elena's eyes growing damp and he didn't like the way his chest reacted to that.

"Look," Damon rumbled. "I can't tell you. Yet. But I can fix this."

"How?" she said, the tears audible in her voice.

"If we drive fast," Damon mumbled. "There's a chance we can make it to Prague before the sun sets."

"What's in Prague?"

"A witch I know. She'll be able to help you shield your mind from Klaus."

Elena's face lid up. "She can?"

He nodded. "She can. Don't know if she _will_, though."

"Why wouldn't she help me?"

"The witch and I, we're not exactly close."

"What did you do?"

"Who said _I_ did something? Maybe _she_ did something."

Elena cocked an eyebrow.

"Fine, I might have bitten her once or twice."

"Damon!"

"What? I was hungry! That's what I do! I'm a−"

"Ssssshhhhh," she shushed, her eyes darting around. "Don't broadcast it."

"Oh, relax. I can always compel them."

"Compel them?"

"It's basically a mind trick. We can make you forget, remember, change your mind−"

"You haven't done that to me, have you?"

"Don't you think that if I had, you would be less of a pain in my ass."

She tried to hide it, but Damon could see her stifle a smile.

"Okay," the waitress announced, her tray full of goodies. "Two milkshakes, pancakes, waffles and French toast."

This time, Elena straightened up, biting her lip in that way that made certain parts of Damon throb.

"I'm starving," she sang, a straw disappearing in her mouth.

"Well, you did just throw everything up."

"Don't remind me," she smiled, loading pancakes on her plate.

"You're not really a salad-girl, are you?" Damon laughed as she emptied half a bottle of syrup.

Elena laughed, her eyes sparkling as she dug her fork into the doughy goodness.

"You were first, by the way," she said when her first bite was swallowed.

"First?" Damon asked, shoving a piece of waffle in his mouth.

"To talk," she chimed, wiggling her eyebrows. "I just wanted to point that out."

If anyone had rubbed his defeat in his face, he would've been furious, but now, he just laughed, shook his head and watched her as she indulged her appetite, closing her eyes at every bite, making delectable noises that rocked him to his core.

How could watching a girl eat be the best part of his day?

* * *

"Are you nervous?"

"I'm Damon Salvatore. I don't get nervous."

She smiled. "So why are we still in this car?"

Damon clutched the wheel tighter.

"We don't have to do this," she said softly. "I can go a few more nights with Klaus. We could find another witch−"

"None as powerful as her."

"Still, I could−"

"I'm not letting him back into your head for one more second, Elena."

Another smile and then, she did something that made the heart he'd sworn to shield, race. Softly, she put her hand over his on the wheel, her thumb rubbing back and forth over his skin in a comforting, warm gesture. It had been a while since he'd been touched so kindly.

"Let's go," she said, too soon robbing him off her touch. "Everything will be fine."

"Just do me a favor," he said as they walked up to the brick house. "Let me do the talking."

"Sure."

"And also, if she attacks me, don't try to help. She's strong enough to take us both."

"Leaving you to die, check."

His lips twitched, but he wasn't amused. He was being serious. If something went wrong, he needed her to run and get somewhere safe before night fell.

"Just breath, Damon," she whispered, picking up on his unease.

"I'm a vampire. Oxygen does nothing."

"Okay, what's the vampire-equivalent for oxygen, then?"

His eyes found her neck.

"Get it out of your head," she chimed, not even having to look at him to know what he was thinking. "Ready?"

He gave her a tight nod, pushed her back a step so he could shield her if need be and knocked on the large, oak doors that opened immediately. There was no doubt in Damon's mind that the witch had known they were coming.

"Damon Salvatore. You have some nerve showing up here."

Abby Bennett still looked as he remembered her: feisty, confident and powerful as hell.

And furious.

At him.

"You think I have some nerve, now?" he said, trying to pull off a nonchalant smile. "Wait 'til I ask you for help."

"You _are_ joking, right?" she hissed, animosity dripping from every word.

"Nope."

"Why, in God's name, would I help _you_?"

"Because of the one thing we have in common."

"We have nothing in common, vampire."

"What about Klaus?"

Her face fell for a tick. "Just because we have a common enemy, doesn't make _you_ any less of an enemy, Salvatore."

"Well, then I guess it's a good thing I'm not the one who needs your help."

"Oh, I see," she said, her eyes finding Elena. "_She_ does. Elena Gilbert."

"How do you−"

"No time for questions," the witch cut Elena off. "You're getting sleepy and Klaus is waiting on the other side."

Elena shot Damon a startled look. He just smiled at her, his eyes saying _told you she's powerful_.

"Come in, then," Abby said, stepping aside.

Elena was the first through the door, but when Damon tried to follow, he was stopped by a force that shouldn't have been there. After all, Abby had just invited him in. He should be able to enter.

"Sorry," Abby snarled. "I vampire-proofed my house, so that, even if a certain someone should compel me to invite him in, he still wouldn't be able to enter."

"That happened once," Damon mumbled.

"And it never will again."

"Wait," Elena jumped in. "You can't leave him out there. The sun is setting. If The Foreboding are close−"

"They're not," Abby cut her plea off. "They'll catch up, but not yet."

"When?" Damon barked.

"Come on, Salvatore," the witch sang, cocking a meaningful eyebrow. "You know it doesn't work that way. Life must happen as it is planned, without me butting in, otherwise nature might turn on me. "

"_Don't_ tell me and _I_ might turn on you."

"I'm not afraid of you."

"You should be."

"No, Damon, _you_ should be. And don't forget I haven't helped your girl yet. Keep this up and you can both leave."

He bit his tongue, much to the witch's amusement.

"Now," Abby said, addressing Elena. "This spell will take a while and it won't be pleasant. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"It can't be any less pleasant than having Klaus in my head."

"It can be. It will be."

"Are you saying this will hurt her?" Damon snarled.

"Most likely, yes."

"But−"

"Breath," Elena whispered, smiling gratefully. "I'll be fine."

"Elena," he said, pushing against that invisible wall between them. "If something goes wrong, I can't protect you. I can't come in."

"Nothing will go wrong," she assured him. "So sit down and wait for me."

He really hated that the first thing he wanted to say was _always_. "Fine, but if you need anything, just scream."

"Again," Abby said. "The house is vampire-proof which means it's also soundproof. No eavesdropping."

"Seriously?" Damon snarled. "So I can't even _hear_ what you're doing to her? Forget it! Elena, we're leaving right−"

"Just breath," she whispered.

And that was the last thing Damon heard before Abby closed the door, leaving him out on the porch without any clue as to what was going on inside.

* * *

_What the fuck is taking so long?_

The night was almost over and by that time Damon had died about a thousand times. At one point, he'd considered burning down the house to lure Abby out and find out what was going on, but then he'd realized Elena was in there too and he'd reconsidered. But the idea was starting to resurface now that the sky was turning a lighter shade of black.

Just as Damon was taking out his lighter, he heard a soft _Ppsssttt_ coming from somewhere above him.

Stepping down from the porch, he looked up to find Elena leaning out of a window above the sloping roof, a roof he was on top of before she could so much as say _hi_.

"Are you okay?" he asked, crouching down in front of her.

She nodded, her eyes sparkling. "I'm great."

"It worked?"

"Abby says so."

"Did it hurt?"

"I'm tougher than I look."

"That's a yes, isn't it?"

She shrugged, sitting down on the window bench. Impressed, Damon sat down, too, leaning back against the open window.

"So, what did she do?"

"She mumbled some Latin, blew out some candles and gave me a mayor headache."

The way she avoided eye contact told him she didn't want to talk about it. It had probably hurt more than she led him to believe.

They sat there in silence for a while and when Elena started yawning, he whispered, "Why don't you go to bed, catch up on some sleep."

"No, the sun is coming up and we need to use every minute of daylight, remember. We should get going in a few minutes."

Damon waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "We can stay until noon. You deserve a nice, fluffy bed."

"No, really," she insisted, already sitting up straighter. "It's fine. We should−"

"You're afraid it didn't work, aren't you?" It wasn't actually a question. He knew. He knew her.

She ran a hand through her hair, her eyes turning red as she admitted, "If he's still in there, he's going to be pissed off I tried to force him out."

"If Abby says he's gone, he's gone."

"And if he's not?"

"I'll wake you."

"How? You can't come in."

"I can still scream."

"My _own_ screams don't even wake me up."

"Okay," he rumbled, sliding closer to her. "Give me your hand."

"What?"

He held out his hand, his fingers touching the magic-barrier.

Immediately, her little hand slipped into his, her eyebrows pulling together. "Now what?"

"Now you sleep," Damon said, his entire arm tingling at her touch. "And when I notice you're starting to have a nightmare, I'll squeeze your hand. Or pull you out the window if that doesn't do the trick."

"You're going to sit there, like that, for hours? That doesn't seem comfortable."

"It isn't," he said, his lips pulling up. "Now lay down and sleep."

She returned his smile, laying down on the bench, her hand firmly in his.

"You won't let go, right?" she mumbled after a few minutes, already drifting off.

"I promise," he whispered back, watching her eyes close. "Sleep."

"I'm glad we're talking again," she whispered in a drowsy voice.

His heart jumped, her confession robbing him of speech too long to respond before her breath steadied and sleep claimed her.

As Damon sat there, watching the sun rise over the horizon with her hand in his, he felt how things had changed in just a few hours. That wall he'd put up was crumbling, even though he knew it shouldn't. It should be stronger, firmer than ever. After all, thanks to Abby, he now knew he'd face The Foreboding sooner or later. So, he had to focus, he had to keep his head straight. He had to start thinking about a _plan_ instead of _her_.

He had to start thinking about something−anything−but her.

With everything going on-Klaus, The Foreboding, Hades' creepy prediction-that should be easy enough.

Right?

* * *

**PLEASE COMMENT TO KEEP THE STORY ALIVE! NEXT CHAPTER THINGS GET ACTION-PACKED! BARE WITH ME, SMUT IS COMING SOON! **

**XXX LustAndLove**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The sun was already high in the sky and Damon had adjusted his position multiple times to keep it's light out of Elena's eyes, to keep her in her slumber. He knew he should've woken her up a long time ago if they wanted to make good time, but he just couldn't bring himself to do so. The few times he'd watched Elena sleep, she'd been restless−a warrior fighting the sheets and pillows−but not this time. She'd been still for hours, since the moment she'd closed her beautiful eyes. How could he possibly wake her up from her first night of deep sleep?

It was already four o'clock when her fingers finally curled in his hand and her pulse sped up before she said in a lazy voice, "Hey."

Damon smiled, watching her rub her eyes with her free hand.

"Had a nice nap?" he asked, his thumb rubbing lazy circles on her hand.

She flashed her white teeth, nodding. "I haven't slept that well in ages."

"So, no Klaus?"

"Nope," she snickered. "No Klaus."

"Good."

She sat up, slowly slipping her hand out of his. "Thanks for holding on to me."

"Anytime." _Literally_.

She stretched, her shirt rising just enough to reveal some of her delectable, tanned skin.

"So," she said, forcing his eyes back to her. "Now that I'm all Klaus free−" She trailed off, shooting him a little smile.

"Ah," he sang. "The plan."

"You said that if Klaus was out of my head you'd tell me. So unless you're not a man of your word−"

"I am."

She straightened her back, expectantly.

"Fine," Damon sighed. "Look, before I tell you the plan, you have to know some things about Klaus. First of all, Klaus isn't a regular vampire."

"Does such a thing even exist?"

"I mean, he isn't _just_ a vampire, he's half werewolf as well. A Hybrid."

The fear in her eyes reminded him off the fact that this was all new to her. She was still dealing with vampires being real and he'd just thrown in werewolves and hybrids.

"Still handling things?" he asked, shooting her a little smile.

"Uhu," she mumbled, nodding.

"Okay," Damon continued. "Klaus is also, besides a Hybrid, a member of the Original Family. This means he was one of the first of our kind. And unfortunately, it also means, he's impossible to kill. A normal stake won't do it, nor fire, nor a werewolf's bite."

"So when you told me you had a way to kill him, you lied?"

"No, I didn't. My brother and I, we found a way, which is why we're not Klaus' favorite people. Well, that and the fact that Stefan and I have been gathering his targets and hiding them from him, molding them into an army that's close to matching his."

"Impressive," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "So, tell me, how does one kill an un-killable Original Hybrid?"

"With a White Oak Stake and an Original Mother."

Confusion took over her face. "What?"

"A regular stake won't kill an Original, but a White Oak one will and−"

"−and the Original Mother is Klaus' mother? His actual mother?"

He nodded. "We need her blood to perform a spell that will disconnect Klaus from his bloodline. Otherwise, killing Klaus will lead to the death of every vampire his bloodline brought forth."

Elena shook her head silently, her eyes hard. "That's your brilliant plan? Using Klaus' mother and then staking him?"

"I know it sounds−"

"Too simple and crazy?" she sighed. "Damon, The Original Mother is still a mother at heart. She won't help you kill her son. She'll warn him. She'll tell him everything."

"Then how do you explain that she's the one who came up with this whole plan? That she handed us the White Oak Stake?"

Elena's eyes widened a little. "She did?"

"She's sick of his tyranny, sick of death. She knows Klaus' existence is a mistake."

Elena sighed, frowning. "I hope you're right."

"She'll come through."

"If you say so," she said, her lips pulling up in a not-quite-smile. "Anyway, what time is it?"

"Four."

"Four?" she screeched, jumping up from the bench. "I thought I'd only slept for an hour!"

"Relax."

"How are you not freaking out? Damon, we just wasted hours of daylight!"

"It wasn't a waste, Elena. You needed sleep."

"Maybe, but _WE_ need to get to Paris! _WE_ need to stay ahead of The Foreboding! Of Klaus!"

"Don't worry, we're only a few hours from Germany."

"What's in Germany?"

"A friend."

"Like Abby is a friend?"

His lips pulled up. "I never bit or tried to kill him if that's what you mean."

Her lips twitched, too. "I just wanted to make sure."

"He's actually one of my only true friends. I've known him since my first year as a vampire, so he's been there through everything."

"I can't wait to meet him," she said, the sun casting tiny sparkles in her eyes.

* * *

"I didn't know which flavor you liked, so I bought a bag of each."

Damon smiled, picking the bag of salty chips from the pile in her arms.

"Really? Just salt?" she said, throwing the other bags on the backseat of the car. "How disappointingly ordinary."

"Sorry," he said as she opened the paprika flavored treat, her lips curling up.

They stood there, leaning back against his car by the gas station, eating in silence as Damon marveled in the way the orange light of the approaching evening enveloped her skin, made it glow. Somehow, the sight of her like that made _him_ glow, too. Since when did he glow?

"I used to love this time of day, you know" she said, staring at the sky. "When the world winds down, when the night is about to break through, but day still fights back. Now though, this time means danger and possible death are just around the corner, so I should really find something else to love."

For some reason, his heart jumped at that, until he saw the way her face fell. It had happened only for a split second, a human wouldn't even have picked up on it, but Damon wasn't human. He'd seen the little flicker of sadness, of fear that had crossed her face before she smiled again. A smile that didn't reach her eyes. Where had she learned to put up this brave face? To never show fear, never show weakness? He knew where _he'd_ learned, but he prayed _her_ lesson had been less cruel.

"Okay," she said, nudging him with her tiny shoulder. "Let's get going."

He straightened up, taking a little bow. "Your wish, my command."

"Really?" she snickered. "Well, in that case−"

"What?" he asked, already knowing he wasn't going to like what was coming.

He was right.

"Could I maybe, possibly−" she sang, trying to charm him with her smile. "−drive?"

"Drive?" Damon laughed. "As in, drive my expensive, one of a kind car?"

Elena tipped her head to the side, cocking an eyebrow. "Expensive, one of a kind? Seriously?"

"It is," he lied.

"It's a basic 1969 Chevy Camaro Convertible, Damon. Not a Lamborghini Veneno."

Why he was still surprised that she knew cars was beyond him. He should've known by now that Elena Gilbert was a vessel of surprises, of intelligence, of everything he'd never expected to find.

"Damon?" she said, snapping him out of his thoughts. "So? Can I drive? Please? Pretty please?"

He tried to make his face as strict as he could, dangling the keys in front of her. "Can you drive a stick?"

"How hard can it be?"

He was about to pull the keys away again when she laughed and stopped him, grabbing his hand. "I'm kidding. Yes, I can drive a stick."

He stretched his fingers, wrapping them around her hand, pressing the keys between their palms. God, how could a silly, small hand like hers make him feel the way it did?

"If you scratch it," he said, swallowing away the desire that was becoming stronger by the day. "Overheat the engine, if even a pebble hits the exterior in the wrong way−"

"You'll kill me?" she said, trying to hide her smile.

"You think that's funny?"

"No," she said, retrieving the keys. "I think it's funny _you_ still think I'm afraid of you."

And with that, she rounded the car and got in the driver's seat, a seat that hadn't been occupied by anyone but Damon since he'd bought the machine.

* * *

"Oh, will you relax," she snickered, shaking her head, her ponytail tickling her neck and collarbone. "We've been on the road for over half an hour now and I still haven't crashed, have I?"

"Not yet," he snapped, his hands on his lap, ready to fling at the wheel the moment she lost control of it. And that was only a matter of time. The girl wasn't exactly a careful driver. She drove about as fast as he did, with the same skill he did. The only difference being off course that Damon was a vampire, with vampire reflexes. If anything went wrong, if there was an obstacle on the road, he could see it coming a mile away and avoid it. She, however, would drive straight into it.

"Hey," she broke the silence. "If we do crash, you're immortal, remember. You'll just get up and walk away."

"_You_ won't," he barked, shooting her a glare, but earning himself a smile none the less.

"Not to mention the car would be ruined," he added, doing his best not to smile, too.

"Oh, like you couldn't afford a new one. A better one, even."

"Says who?"

"Come on. You have to be a complete idiot to live as long as you have and not be rich."

"Who says I'm not a complete idiot?"

"I do. Plus, you pay everything cash and every time you do, you pull out a pretty impressive roll off hundred dollar bills."

"Keeping an eye on me, miss Gilbert?"

"Just being observant," she said, shifting gears. "I've actually been meaning to ask you why you carry that much cash around. Not exactly safe."

"Klaus might have been born before technology even existed, but even he can track a credit card."

"That's actually smart."

"She said surprised."

"I didn't mean it like that," Elena laughed.

"Yeah, sure," he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I know you're smart, I just−"

Damon's mind slowed down as his hands flung forward, grabbing the wheel, jerking it to the side. But it was too late. The car had come out of nowhere, she couldn't have seen it coming. _He_ hadn't even seen it coming. Then again, he'd been distracted by her beautiful mouth, her sparkling eyes. Eyes that were now widened in horror and a mouth that was opened in a mute scream.

The car bore into the side of the Camaro, producing an ear deafening sound, flinging the vehicle away like it was nothing more than a feather in the wind. They spun for what felt like forever, until the car finally came to a stop, upside down. There was glass everywhere, parts of his beloved machine scattered all over the road. But that's not what Damon cared about. All he cared about was−

"Elena?"

She moaned, touching her forehead. When she pulled back her fingers, he could see blood staining them.

"You're hurt."

"I'm okay," she mumbled. "It's just a cut. Thank God for seatbelts."

And thank God she was driving fast enough. Her speed had made sure the car had bore into the backside of the Camaro instead of the front where she'd sat. If he'd hit the driver's door, she would've had more than just a cut.

"Don't move," Damon ordered. "I'll get you out."

One kick and his wrenched door was flying off its hinges, landing in a ditch. Her door soon followed.

"Put your hands on the floor," he said, crouching down on the road beside her. "Wait."

He ran his hands over the surface that used to be his roof, making sure there was no glass she could cut herself on. The tiny cuts in his palms healed immediately.

"_Now_ do it."

She listened.

"I'm going to unbuckle you and pull you out, okay?"

She nodded.

"There," he rumbled when he got her out and on her feet. As he held on to her waist, she pressed her body tightly against his. Her full weight rested on him and he hated that, even now, he couldn't stop himself from enjoying the feel of her.

"I'm so sorry, Damon," she whispered, her tiny hands finding his shoulders, her eyes closing and opening slower than they should. "Your car−"

"−is just a stupid car. Can you stand?"

"Yes," she whispered, unconvincingly.

Carefully, he let go of her waist, only to grab it again when she swayed on her feet.

"Or maybe not," she moaned, her fingers entwining behind his neck. "Dizzy."

"Come here," he growled before scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to the side of the road. "Sit down."

She did so without objecting.

"Stay here."

"Where are you going?"

"To have a nice talk with the idiot in the other car."

She grabbed his hand, shaking her head. "Don't hurt him. Or her. It was an accident. Accidents happen."

"I'll try not to," Damon gnarled, the anger dominating the worry now he knew Elena was alright. "But it's like you said. Accidents happen."

"Damon, don't!" she yelled behind him as he walked towards the black SUV.

He didn't listen and she didn't follow. She couldn't yet. The shock was still too fresh.

Damon had reached the car in two seconds, jerking the door open, ready to give however was driving hell…but there was no one there. The car was empty.

"What the−"

The sound of screeching tires made him turn to find two more black SUV's, one parked on each side of the street, cutting off any escape routes.

"Damon?" Elena yelled, scrambling on her feet.

He was by her side in a second, pushing her behind his back.

"It's still light out," she said, grabbing his shirt. "This can't be Klaus. Or his Foreboding. Right?"

"Right."

"So who−"

The four doors off both cars opened simultaneously, making Elena's fingers clutch his shirt tighter.

"We're about to find out."

Damon frowned when ten muscled men slammed the doors shut and headed towards them.

"Humans," he said, breathing in the truth. "They're just humans."

"What? Why would Klaus send humans?" Elena whispered. "Sure, it's ten against two, but you're a vampire. You can take them. And Klaus knows that."

Damon sniffed when the truth hit him. "They're not here to take us to Klaus. They're here to−"

"−stall us," Elena finished, anger in her voice. "Klaus send them to stall us until the sun sets and his Foreboding can take over. Shit."

"Yeah, shit."

"How did he know we'd be here?"

"Klaus' power has no limits. It was only a matter of time," Damon said, never looking away from the men who came closer and closer. "Listen, Elena, I can take them, but I need you to run."

"What?"

"I can't worry about you while I fight. It will distract me."

"Remember the last time you fought and I ran? Didn't end so well, did it?"

"You're still alive, aren't you?"

"Damon, I'm not leaving," she decided, stepping out from behind him. "I can fight too, you know. I might not stand a chance against a vampire, but I can take a human."

"Two seconds ago you couldn't even stand!"

"Adrenaline rush!"

"Even so, some kicking and clawing won't be enough!"

She glared at him. "I can do more than kicking and clawing. I can _fight_. Trust me."

"This has nothing to do with trust!" he snarled. "These men reek of Vervain, Elena. It's an herb that weakens us if consumed, an herb that stops us from compelling humans, which means they're here out of their own free will. Which means Klaus has trained them to at least stand a fighting chance against a vampire. They're strong."

"So am I."

"Damn it, Elena! Just−"

"Too late."

The first man reached them and before Damon could utter another protest, he was wrapped up in a fist fight.

Klaus had trained these men well. He took out the first one easily enough, but when four of them ganged up on him, it took real effort to keep the upper hand. He tried to catch a glimpse of Elena, but wherever she was, she was hidden from his sight. She was probably already stuffed in one of the SUV's. Why couldn't she just listen to him? Why did she have to be so stubborn?

The sun was almost at the horizon, descending fast. There were only a few minutes of light left. The Foreboding were bound to arrive. Soon. And he wouldn't be able to protect her against an army of Foreboding. Somehow, the thought of losing her seemed to spur him on even more. This time, when another man flung at him, he needed only a second to wrap his hands around the human's head and snap his neck.

Another one went down with two broken knees.

One's lung collapsed underneath Damon's fist.

But the thought of Elena getting hurt had another effect as well. It made the rage, the worry take over. It made him reckless. Which is why he hadn't noticed the knife in the last guy's hand. Not until the blade sunk into his side. The unexpected burst of pain made him fall down on one knee, clutching his wound. It was the guy's fist hitting his jaw that made him hit the pavement completely. He tried to get up, but when he moved, he realized why he suddenly felt so weak.

Vervain.

It had been on the man's knife and was now coursing freely through his bloodstream. He could already feel its effect, could feel the venom setting him on fire, could feel his strength washing away.

A foot slammed into his stomach and once again, that piercing pain hit him. The guy's boot tip was another blade, drenched in even more Vervain.

A third kick. A third stab. This time in his shoulder.

"You're an idiot, Salvatore," the man laughed, putting his full weight on his foot, on the knife that was still lodged in his shoulder. Damon could feel the metal shredding his muscle, could feel cold blood gushing down his arm. Biting back the pain, Damon grabbed the guy's boot, trying to push him back, trying to push the knife out. But the Vervain worked fast. He just didn't have the strength. Was this really how it was going to end? Was this how Klaus got him? Because of a human? A fucking human?

"You should've known by now that you can't win," the man laughed. "Not against Klaus. He always gets what he wants."

"Not today."

The man turned his head to look at the girl who'd spoken, only to have it slammed back around by Elena and a piece of wreckage from Damon's Camaro.

Clearly, she'd put some strength behind the hit, because the man crumbled to the ground immediately, knocked out.

"Salvatore," Elena said, the scrap metal resting on her shoulder like a sword. "Has no one ever told you, you need to do more than kick and claw when you fight?"

He started to laugh, but as he did, his wounds tore open even more, turning his laughter into whimpers and turning _her_ smile into a grimace.

"Okay, let's get you up," she said, her voice soft, calming.

She crouched down, gently grabbing his waist as he draped his good arm around her shoulders. Normally, Damon hated showing weakness, being vulnerable and if it had been anyone else trying to help him, he would've shrugged off their touch and bit through the pain. But with her, he didn't mind. He liked it even, being taken care of.

Being cared for.

The moment he got on his feet and took in the scene in front of him, he was sure the Vervain was working faster than usual. After all, there was no way that what he was seeing, was real. He must've been hallucinating, because not only where the men _he_ had taken out lying on the ground, but the men who'd went for Elena were there as well.

Hurt.

Badly.

In fact, while some of _his_ victims were still conscious, each and every one of hers were motionless. Unsurprisingly, they were still alive, though. Elena wasn't a killer. He suspected she didn't have an evil bone in her body.

"Did you do all of that?" he asked, not able to hide his shock as they made their way to one of the black SUV's, stepping over limp bodies.

"I told you I could fight."

"Where did you learn to do that?"

She shrugged. "I taught myself."

"You taught _yourself_?"

"The world's a dangerous place, Damon. I knew _that_ way before I knew about vampires," she said, opening the passenger's door. "And speaking of danger−"

"What?"

"I think it's best if I drive, since your shoulder's looking gruesome. I'd like to say I'm going to limit the speed, but since the sun is now nowhere to be found, I'm really not."

"Fine," Damon rumbled, sliding into the car. "No objections here."

She frowned at that, but slammed the door shut anyway, getting in the car beside him.

"Hold on," she said before throwing the car in reverse and turning it with screeching tires without so much as slowing down.

"Taught yourself that, too?" he asked, clutching the dashboard as she sped off into the night.

"Tell me where to go," she demanded, her mind clearly focused on the task at hand.

"Straight. It's straight the whole way to my friend, but−"

"Don't," she cut him off, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Don't say it. We'll make it there in time."

"Elena, The Foreboding can't be far off."

"We fought fast. We might make it."

"We're an hour away from where we need to be. I'm sure The Foreboding are not."

"Then we fight! You don't know how many of them are coming. Maybe Klaus just learned of our location, maybe he hasn't been able to mobilize that many Foreboding."

"He mobilized ten humans. He can mobilize a whole lot more vampires in that time."

"So what?" she yelled. "We just give up? Do you want me to pull over and wait for them to come get us?"

"Come on, Elena!" Damon yelled back. "That's not what I'm−" A hiss drowned out his words as the gash in his side tore open further.

Elena's eyes changed from icy cold to warm brown as she noticed that Damon's white shirt−that had only three big red stains on it before−was now almost completely drenched in blood. "Why aren't your wounds healing? Vampires heal fast."

"Yes, we do. But not with Vervain in our system."

"Vervain?" she repeated, her eyes darting over the three deep, gushing wounds. "How did they get Vervain in you?"

"It was on the knives."

"Fuck!" she shrieked. "Damon, what do we do? If you can't fight, we're sitting ducks!"

"We need to put off fighting as long as we can."

"How?"

"You're doing a great job so far. Just keep putting distance between them and us."

"Damon, those wounds are serious. If you were mortal, you'd be dead! For you to heal as much as is needed to take on The Foreboding, I would have to keep driving for hours! And you just said we won't even make it to your friend−who's only _one_ hour away−before they get to us!"

She was right.

He knew.

It was over.

But he couldn't tell her that.

He couldn't tell her it was hopeless.

He couldn't tell her he'd failed to protect her.

He couldn't tell her he'd failed _her_.

"Would blood help?" she asked, her hands clutching the wheel tighter.

"It would speed up the healing, flush out the Vervain, but it's not exactly crowded with people to drink from, Elena. We're in the middle of nowhere."

Suddenly, the car came to a full stop, the smell of burning rubber filling the air.

"What are you doing?" Damon growled, looking in the review mirror. "We need to keep going."

"We can't win. Not unless you're on top of your game."

"Even so, you were right. We can't just give up."

"I'm not giving up."

"Then what−"

It was only then, as she rolled up her sleeve, that he understood. He understood why she'd stopped, what she wanted him to do. And he wanted to do it. He wanted to do it so badly, his vision was starting to blur.

But he couldn't.

Not now.

Not when he was this weak.

Frantically, he shook his head, forcing his body as far away from her as he could. "No."

"You need to feed," she said, her voice trembling. "You said so yourself."

"You don't understand, Elena," he growled.

"Oh, I understand. I understand that if we do nothing, Klaus kills us. Or worse," she said, bringing her wrist closer to him.

He could see her arteries pulsing, could smell the rich, thick blood coursing through her veins. And it was right there, for him to take, to taste. All he had to do was dig his teeth into that perfect skin and gulp her down. And why wouldn't he? She was offering.

A primal, dark instinct awakened in his chest, an instinct that pushed his fangs out, made his eyes turn pitch black.

He was out of the car and into the night before he could blink, breathing in the cold air, trying to clear his mind, to regain control.

But she didn't make it easy.

"Damon!" she boomed, standing in front of him. "What exactly is the problem? A few days ago, you wouldn't have hesitated!"

"A few days ago, I was in control!" he yelled, the veins around his eyes throbbing. "Now, I'm too weak to fight!"

"Which is why you need to drink!"

"No, not fight The Foreboding! Fight _him_!"

"Who?"

"The monster inside! It wants you and if it gets you, it won't let go!"

"What are you talking−"

"I won't be able to stop, Elena! My body needs blood and if I start drinking, I won't be able to stop! I'll kill you!"

"No," she said, her voice kind. "You won't."

"I will!" he screamed, trying to make her see, to make her understand. "If I drink, the monster will take over! I'll drain you!"

Her warm hands cupped his cheeks, forcing him to gaze into her beautiful eyes, eyes that were filled with tears. "I trust you, Damon."

His heart jumped. "I thought you didn't trust."

"I didn't. I _don't_. But I trust _you_."

"You shouldn't. Not now."

She didn't listen. She just smiled weakly, slowly bringing her wrist to his mouth.

He could feel her pulse thumping against his lips, could feel his gums starting to ache expectantly. But more than that, he could feel himself slipping away and what was taking over didn't deserve her trust.

"Damn it, Damon!" she screamed when he pushed her away, limping to the side of the road, the blood loss making it hard to even walk.

"Don't you get it!" she continued. "If you don't feed, I'm dead anyway! I can't fight The Foreboding myself!"

"I'm not doing it!"

"Klaus will win, Damon! He'll get us, he'll get _you_! I won't let that happen! Not when there's something I can do to stop it!"

He turned away from her, the sight of her, flushed and angry, too irresistible. His body needed blood, desperately. His wounds were still bleeding and he could actually feel his control gushing out with the blood.

_Just take her. Drink from her. You know you want to._

"No!" he screamed desperately at the cold, cruel voice coming from within. "I won't do it!"

"I'm not actually giving you the choice!"

He didn't understand what she meant by that…until his senses were bombarded with a succulent, luscious, moist scent.

He turned, a primitive growl emanating from deep within his chest. In her hand, she was clutching a sharp rock as blood was trickling down her other arm, painting her skin in a deep red.

Even if he'd been as strong as usual, it would've been hard to resist. But now…now it was impossible.

The animal within broke free, steering his legs in her direction. He could still hear himself protest, trying to resist, but the words didn't come out of his mouth anymore. _He_ was the voice within now and the monster was ignoring him.

Before he knew what he was doing, his mouth filled with warm blood, the gooey goodness sliding down his throat.

But it wasn't enough.

He was famished, needed to draw in more.

More blood.

More of her.

More.

And then, he was on top of her, pushing her down on the ground, his fangs boring into her neck, into the carotid artery where her blood overflowed, copiously streamed into his mouth.

The starvation, the need to drink, to survive, dominated him, drove him, made him crazed.

It was only when he had to suck hard to find more blood, when the hunger was satisfied, that Damon regained some of his common sense, some of his control.

It was only then, that he realized what he was doing.

What he'd done.

His insides twisted as he pulled back, staring down at the girl who's eyes were now closed, who's chest no longer heaved.

"Elena?" he whispered, sounding like the little boy he was so long ago. "Elena, please, wake up."

She didn't. He'd drained her. The bite marks in her neck didn't even bleed anymore. There was nothing left.

"Elena!" he screamed louder, hoping by some miracle she'd open her eyes and reassure him she was okay, that he was being ridiculous.

But she didn't.

She just laid there, unmoving.

Horrorstruck, he watched as tiny droplets of blood fell from his lips and hit her porcelain cheeks.

"No, no, no," he whispered, wiping his mouth. "You're not dead."

A gulf of cold wind hit his face, bringing with it a scent that made his stomach twist even more.

The Foreboding.

They were coming.

They were close.

He knew he should run, get as far away from them as he could. But what was the point?

Let them come.

Let them take him.

Let them kill him.

He just lost the one thing that mattered anyway.

The one thing he'd ever loved.

No point in avoiding his feelings anymore, pushing them back. No point in denying it.

He'd loved her.

He'd killed her.

Let them come.

* * *

**As always, please, pretty please *charming Elena smile* REVIEW! It keeps me going, keeps me writing, lets me know what you guys want and if I'm on the right path! Thanks!**

**xxx LustAndLove**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_I trust you, Damon. I trust you, Damon. I trust you, Damon. I trust you, Damon. I trust you, Damon._

Damon covered his ears, sitting beside her body, trying to block out her words, her voice, trying to forget how much faith she'd had in him.

And how he'd betrayed that faith.

But it was no good. Elena was in his head, in his heart, in his every pore and it was killing him. The arrival of The Foreboding couldn't come soon enough as far as he was concerned. He looked forward to death, to maybe seeing her again. Although he doubted they'd end up in the same place. The Victim and The Killer rarely did.

His gaze fell on her and the coldness that pierced his heart crippled him. It was that same coldness that had been there ever since he'd turned, but somehow, in the short time she'd been in his life, she'd melted the ice away. And now, now that cold seemed unbearable, because all it did was remind him of the warmth he once had.

_Elena._

Clutching his hair, he sharpened his senses, listening for any sign that The Foreboding were close. He couldn't take it any longer. But even though their smell had grown thicker, they weren't close enough to hear. Not yet.

But he _did_ hear something else.

A sound _so_ faint, he would never have heard it if he hadn't been straining his hearing.

A sound that awakened something inside of him that he hadn't felt in ages.

Hope.

His mind racing, he pressed his ear to Elena's chest. And there it was again. A heartbeat. Not even a beat really, but her body hadn't completely given up. Not yet.

Faster than he knew he could move, he bit down on his wrist, pressing the gash against her lips, knowing that if she was still alive, his blood would heal her.

That was the theory anyway.

The blood went in her mouth and down her throat well enough, but after a few mouthfuls, her body started convulsing, thrashing violently against the concrete road. And if _that_ wasn't disturbing enough, every single drop of the blood he'd fed her came surging back out.

Her _human_ body seemed to be rejecting _vampire_ blood.

In his hundred and seventy-two years, he'd never seen anything like it.

The sirens of an ambulance blazing in the distance snapped Damon out of his stupefied state.

An ambulance meant there was a hospital. And if there was no supernatural cure, he was going to have to rely on a natural one. As quickly as he could, he scooped her up in his arms and put her on the backseat of the SUV before getting in the driver's seat.

As he sped off with screeching tires, he cursed at his own stupidity, his own weakness. If he'd heard her heart sooner, if he'd realized she hadn't been beyond saving, if he hadn't just given up on her, he could've been at the fucking hospital already.

Ten minutes passed until he finally spotted the ambulance, racing through the streets of a crowded town. But there was no reason for celebration. Not only did Damon have no idea how much further it was to the hospital, surprisingly enough The Foreboding also didn't seem to abort their mission now that they were in a populated area. He could still sense them getting closer.

The longest five minutes of his life crawled by and then, he finally saw it. He'd never been so happy to see a big, white building before. Then again, he'd never had a _need_ for a hospital before, either. But he needed it now. Like his life depended on it, which it truly did.

_Without her…_

He shook that thought away, getting her out of the car and running through the automatic, glass doors. The florescent lights above him highlighted the grey complexion of the woman in his arms. She looked nothing like the vibrant, blushing girl she'd been only minutes ago.

He'd ruined her.

Destroyed her.

"Help!" he screamed for the first time in ages. "I need help!"

At once, two men in white coats ran up to him. He wanted to protest when they took her out of his arms, but he knew he had to endure it. For _her_ sake.

"What happened?" one doctor asked as they put her down on a stretcher. He couldn't have been older than twenty-five. A baby. Her life was in the hands of a fucking baby.

"She had a car accident," he barked, following them as they rolled her down a long, white hallway. "She lost a lot of blood."

"Where you in this accident, too?" he asked, giving him a once-over.

"Yes."

"Are _you_ hurt? Do _you_ need help?"

"No! Fucking focus on her!"

The doctors exchanged a meaningful look. Damon knew why off course. This didn't look good for him. Bringing in a nearly dead girl, claiming you were in a car accident with the victim, but having no wounds yourself whatsoever and yet wearing a blood-drenched shirt, looked suspicious. And rightly so. It _was_ his fault she was there.

The stretcher slammed into two doors, pushing them open. Damon wanted to follow, but before he could, one of the doctors stopped him, saying "You have to wait here, sir."

"Like hell!" Damon snarled, trying to round him. But the man cut off his path, a move that made Damon want to rip the doctor's still beating heart out of his chest. Badly.

"We'll send someone to keep you updated," the doctor continued. "But you can't come. She needs our help and to give her the best care, we can't have someone close to her watching our every move. So please, for her, sit down and wait."

_For her._

Damon nodded, somehow making it to the waiting room. And as he sat down on a plastic chair, Damon Salvatore found himself doing something he'd never done before.

Not even as a human.

He bend his head down, folded his hands tightly and softly…prayed.

"Don't bother," a familiar voice rumbled. "He can't help you. Not anymore."

Fury welled up in Damon's chest as he looked up, finding a pair of pitch black eyes boring into his.

"You're not taking her," Damon fumed.

"Oh, I'm not here for _her_."

Before Damon could blink, Hades grabbed his shirt and threw him into the wall with a force that made the plaster crumble down. Damon stayed on the floor, his vision blurred, his head spinning. Apparently, the God was physically much stronger than he looked.

"Completely drained of every drop of her blood," The God barked, slowly walking towards him, his voice lined with venom. "A shredded Carotid Artery. Her neck looking like some animal ripped it open. For some reason, I'm thinking you're involved."

"I didn't mean to hurt her," Damon said, shame and guilt hitting him from every side. "I was injured, she was bleeding. I told her not to make me feed, but she wouldn't listen, she made me−"

"So it's _her_ fault she's dying?" Hades spit out, flames flickering in his eyes. _Actual_ flames. This was Death in all his glory. His pissed off, murderous glory. And every ounce of his anger was directed at him.

Damon couldn't blame him, though.

In fact, he would understand if The God was going to rip his heart out. Not that his heart was still off any use to him. Not without her.

"She's not dying," Damon said weakly, his naïve optimism sounding exactly like the lies they were. "The humans will fix her."

"_The humans will fix her_?" Hades snarled, disgust dripping of his every word. "You're going to put your trust in _them_ now? You're going to put Elena's life in _their_ hands?"

"She rejected my blood. There's nothing I can do. I don't have a choice."

"But you had a choice before!" he fumed, the white of his eyes coloring black. "You had the choice not to sink your filthy fucking fangs into her!"

That familiar cold, empty feeling welled up in Damon's chest again, hollowing him out like before, filling him with excruciating pain. The God was working his dark power on him again and this time, there was no Elena to stop his torture.

This time, there was no Elena, period.

Damon waited for the screams to start like the last time, the screams that would deafen him, the screams that would make his head burst and finish him off.

But they never came.

Instead, what followed was worse. Much worse.

Suddenly, he saw himself and Elena by the side of that road. He saw it like he was an onlooker, a third party. One moment, she was yelling at him and the next, she cut her arm. At once, he charged for her. No hesitation. No second thoughts. He just went for her.

Like an animal.

A wild, ruthless animal.

He _remembered_ getting lost in the blood, focusing only on feeding, but now, he saw what it had been like for Elena. He saw her trying to stay strong as he drank from her wrist. He heard her say _Damon, that's enough_.

But he just ignored her.

He just kept going.

She _yelled_ his name then, trying to get his attention, but he was lost, gone.

_Damon, stop!_

_Damon, please stop! _

_ENOUGH! _

_DAMON!_

He merely growled in response before grabbing her waist and slamming her against the ground, roughly. Her head banged against the concrete, but he didn't care. He just grabbed her chin, forced her head sideways and attacked her neck, shredding her beautiful skin with his cold, razor-sharp teeth. Blood pooled underneath her head, darkening the pavement. She still tried to fight, weakly slapped his back, clawed at his shoulder, but it didn't even slow him down.

As a last resort, her feet started kicking, her heels dug into the ground, trying to push her body away from him, but the struggle only lasted for a few seconds. A few seconds…until she stopped moving. After that, she just laid there as he sucked every drop of blood out of her.

Like she was nothing more than a blood bag for him to drain dry.

It was the most repulsive thing he'd ever seen.

Not soon enough, the scene evaporated and then, all he saw was _Elena_.

Flashes of her smile. Of her pearly white teeth peeping out from behind her blood red lips.

Of her eyes. The sun reflecting in them, her hidden giddiness making them sparkle.

Of the way she'd looked at him like he was a man. Like he was worth something.

Of her hair playing in the wind, feathering her shoulder, her blushing cheeks.

Of the rich, soul healing sound of her laughter.

Image after image of the short time he'd spend with her, memory after memory, feeling after feeling hit him, drowned him, killed him.

And then, he was back in that waiting room. White walls. Weird smell. And a God staring down at him with a deep frown on his face and his hands balled up in fists by his side.

"You love her."

Damon closed his eyes, laying down on his back, trying to pull himself together. "Why do you sound so surprised? You called me out on it, remember."

"I knew you loved her," Hades gnarled. "But I didn't know you _loved_ her."

Damon got up, keeping his eyes glued to The God's. "I've never begged in my life, but I'm begging you now. Fix her."

"I don't get to decide who lives or dies. There are rules."

"Break the rules! For Elena!"

Hades shook his head, his jaw set angrily. "I can't."

"You mean, you won't," Damon barked. "Because if she dies, you finally get what you want, don't you! You finally get her all to yourself!"

"You really don't know anything, do you, Salvatore?" Hades yelled, taking a threatening step towards him. "I don't get to keep those who die! I'm their last stop before their final destination! Nothing more! And even _if_ I could keep her, I would _never_ do that to her!"

"Then fix her!"

"Don't you think I would if I could?" Hades yelled, his eyes losing the hard edge to them for the first time, an emotion seeping through his gaze Damon had never expected to see on Death's face.

Sadness.

It was then that Damon realized why The God was really there. Not to wait for her to give up and die. He was there to wait for her to live. And make Damon pay for putting her in danger, obviously.

"Elena's strong," Damon said, for a moment feeling connected to The God.

A little smile played on Hades' lips. "I know."

Damon nodded, sitting down on the couch, his broken ribs healing fast thanks to the vast amount of fresh blood running through his veins. _Her_ blood.

"She told me she died, you know," Damon broke the silence. "Multiple times."

Hades sat down across from him, his arms crossed over his chest. "Did she now?"

"Yeah, she did."

"What else did she tell you?"

"What else is there?"

"Oh, Salvatore. How nice it must be, to be so ignorant."

"My point is," Damon snapped. "She's a fighter."

They sat there in silence for a while, until Hades said, his eyes focused on the hallway. "Did you know that when Death comes knocking, some people get the opportunity to choose their faith? To choose whether to move on or go back, continue living? Not vampires off course. They already had their chance to cheat death. But some humans do. Not all. Some."

"Why would anyone choose to move on then?" Damon asked. "If they have a chance to live?"

"Because death is easy, Salvatore. Life…life is much harder," Hades answered like he'd just asked the dumbest question in the world. "The first time Elena showed up at my doorstep, all innocent and wide-eyed, I expected her to be one of those people to cut her losses and move on. But she didn't. Not the first time, not the second time, not any time after that. It was extraordinary, really. She and I both knew what she was returning to, knew what was in stored for her, so, for the life of me, I couldn't understand why she would go back. Until I got to know her. She's stronger than she looks. And that combined with her stubbornness," he shook his head. "Well, it explained why she wanted to fight, why she refused to give up, even though any fool could see how every dead changed her. Every time, I could see her eyes growing a little harder, could see her light dying just a little. And yet, she never gave up. For me, someone who's seen every kind of human pass by, she was a breath of fresh air. Unique amongst her kind."

Damon kept quiet, hoping for more. More about her past. More about her. But Hades was clearly done and even though he had a million questions, he knew the God had revealed everything he was going to reveal. Nothing more, nothing less.

"So," Hades concluded. "I have to believe that _you_, some low life vampire, will not be the one to end her. I have to believe she'll fight again and win."

"So this isn't the event that you _want_ to come to pass? The one you talked about earlier?"

The God shook his head, getting up. "No. In fact, I didn't even see this one coming. The future has a way of changing, depending on the decisions people make in the spur of the moment. For example, if some girl decides to let a vampire feed of her and that vampire has no self-control whatsoever, the future tends to get blurry."

"So this is not the endgame? It's not her death you were after?"

The God cocked a meaningful eyebrow, straightening his suit.

"Okay, then answer me this: How are you here? I thought you could only take form around paranormal hotbeds?"

"Who says I'm here?" the God said cryptically. "The doctor's coming."

Damon looked over his shoulder, spotting an older man in a white coat heading in his direction. "I hope you were right about her."

He waited for a response from the God, but when none came and he looked back, he found himself alone.

Hades was gone.

Vanished into thin air.

"Sir?"

The vampire shot up on his feet, facing the doctor who had a stern look on his face.

"You're the one who brought in the woman, the car accident victim?"

Damon nodded.

"Can you tell me her name?"

"No," Damon hissed. There couldn't be any paper trail leading back to Elena or him. They had to be ghosts. "How is she?"

"You don't know her name?" the man asked, narrowing his eyes. "Does she have insurance? Family I can call?"

"I don't know!"

The doctor raised his chin. "And what did you say _your_ name was?"

"I didn't," Damon growled. "Tell me how she's doing."

"Look, pal, how are you even connected to this girl? I can't just tell any random stranger about her condition. So unless you can give me some sort of identification−"

Damon growled under his breath, intensifying his gaze on the doc's eyes. "You don't need to know any of that," he cut him off, his voice calm as he compelled the man. "All you need to know is that she's someone important, that she's a priority, that she deserves the best care this hospital has to offer and that_ I_ am the only one who's to know about her presence here. If anyone else comes in and asks about her or me, you haven't seen us. Do you understand?"

The man nodded, his eyes glazed over.

"How is she?" he asked again, his voice normal as the doctor blinked wildly.

"Uhm, she's stabile," he now answered without hesitation. "We're giving her multiple O-negative transfusions, but she suffered an enormous amount of blood loss."

"But she's out of the woods? She's alright?"

"You have to understand, sir, that her Carotid artery was almost completely severed and without blood flowing to the brain−"

"She suffered brain damage?" he asked, a painful weight pressing down on his chest.

"There's that possibility, yes. We won't know until she wakes up."

_He means _if_ she wakes up._

"She's in room 316. You're welcome to sit by her bed and wait."

Damon just nodded, unable to speak. What could he say?

"I'm sorry I didn't have better news," the doctor ended the conversation, leaving Damon alone.

Always alone.

* * *

_Just go in, you coward. Go in. _

Damon had been standing outside of her room for two hours now, looking in through the window, watching her limp body rest on the bed. She was surrounded by three beeping machines that were connected to her by small, sheer tubes.

And he'd put her there.

She was the one person that mattered and he'd put her in the hospital.

Him.

Once again, he relived what he'd seen under Hades' spell. He saw her fear. Her pain. Her disbelief that he kept drinking from her despite her pleas. She'd believed in him and he'd treated her like she was nothing more than something to snack on.

How could he possibly go in and sit by her bed after that?

Heavy footsteps headed in his direction and he didn't have to look back to know it was a man coming his way. A cloud of cheap cologne enveloped him. When the footsteps stopped right behind him and the man cleared his throat, Damon turned, shooting the young doctor an annoyed look. It was the fifth, so called, specialist he'd seen in two hours and he was growing tired of hearing the same thing over and over again: _There's no change. There's nothing we can do. We can merely wait for her to wake up._

"What?" Damon snapped.

The blond, blue-eyed man looked over Damon's shoulder to the girl in the bed. "Sorry to bother you sir, but I was send here to examine the patient."

Damon sighed, running a hand through his raven hair that was messier now than it had ever been. He knew he looked just as messy in every other department, too. He'd stolen a shirt out of one of the doctors' lockers, but the smell of her blood was still clinging to his every pore. His pants were torn. He had bags under his eyes and somehow, he'd managed to look even paler than usual.

"Maybe you should get some rest, sir," the doctor said, casting him a sympathetic half smile. "Why don't you go to sleep for a while? Someone will wake you up if anything changes."

"I'm fine."

"There's really no point in staying here when−"

"What did you say your specialty was?"

The man got the clue, dropping the subject of rest. "Neurology."

Damon's brows pulled together. "She's already been checked out by a neurologist. He came over an hour ago."

"But I haven't checked her out yet and I'm the head of the department, so−" he tried to round Damon, but the Salvatore cut off his path, stopping him from entering Elena's room. There was something inside of Damon that told him to be cautious, a gut instinct he'd learned to trust over the years.

"_You_ are the head of neurology?"

"Yes."

"How old are you?"

The man laughed shortly. "I get that a lot. Yes, I graduated young and I made a quick promotion, but I can assure you I'm old and competent enough to handle this, mister Salvatore."

The man took a step forward, but Damon shoved his palm against his chest, hard, hissing, "I never told you my name."

"A colleague told me."

"I never told _anyone_ my name."

"Didn't you?"

"No," Damon barked, narrowing his eyes. "I didn't."

The man laughed again before singing, "Shit."

In a matter of seconds, the entire atmosphere changed from casual to hostile. Suddenly, the 'doctor' grabbed the hand that Damon had pressed against his chest and snapped his wrist like it was a twig. Damon fell back against the door, clutching his hand as he slammed his foot against his attacker's chest, flinging him back against the wall. The moment the imposter got up, Damon knew he wasn't a man at all. No man would've survived the impact.

"You're a fucking Foreboding." Damon could kick himself over the head for not realizing the truth sooner. The massive amounts of cologne. It wasn't just a human error in judgement. He'd put it there to cover up that foul smell of dead that clung to their kind, that smell that would've given him away immediately.

The vampire bowed dramatically, smiling that cold signature smile. "Volchok. It's a real pleasure to finally meet the infamous Salvatore brother. Too bad the meeting will be short-lived."

"Yeah," Damon gnarled, stretching his already healed wrist. "Too bad."

They charged for each other and once again, Damon was reminded of the reason why Klaus handpicked these vamps to join his ranks. They were skilled, strong. They didn't just rely on their primitive vampire strength like any regular vamp, but they'd honed their supernatural skills, learned to maximize their power. Luckily, Damon wasn't a rookie either.

When fists stopped flying, they were both panting, wounded, glaring.

"You're good," Volchok complimented, snapping his dislocated jaw back into place without flinching. "Then again, I expected you to be. Your reputation precedes you, mister Salvatore."

"Then you should know the best thing to do here, is walk away."

"Even if I did, I'm not alone. You must have figured that out by now."

Off course he had. He could sense them now, all around the building. Even on top of it. He was surrounded.

"Why are you doing this, Salvatore? Why are you making this so difficult on yourself?"

"I've never been one to lay down and take it."

"Unlike her, obviously," Volchok smirked, his gaze finding the girl behind the glass, making the anger in Damon's chest boil over.

"Touchy subject?" The Foreboding asked, clearly enjoying himself. "Tell me, why did you stay? You must've known we were coming. You must've known you'd be outnumbered. You could've left her behind. You should've."

"Screw you."

"No, thanks. You're not my type," Volchok said, letting out a deep sigh. "Come on, Salvatore. Do yourself a favor. Give Klaus what he wants."

"Sorry, not interested, but I'll tell you what," Damon gnarled. "I'll make you another deal. You walk away right now and I won't tell Klaus that his Foreboding were dumb enough to come after me in a populated area."

Volchok's arrogant smile dropped.

"Tell me if I'm wrong, but isn't one of Klaus' principal rules _Moventur In Tenebris?" _Damon continued. "_Move in the−"_

"−_shadows._ Yes, I know what it means, thank you," Volchek snapped.

"Sounds to me like Klaus doesn't want his Foreboding to make too much noise, does he? Not around humans. He's pretty big on keeping the existence of vampires on the down low. And something tells me that a full frontal attack in a crowded hospital won't sit well with him."

"He'll understand we had to make an exception."

"Off course, because if there's one thing Niklaus Mikaelson is known for, it's his understanding nature."

He could see The Foreboding swallowing hard.

"I know what you're thinking. You're thinking you could compel any witnesses, but all it takes is one slip up, one whisper and you're exposed. _Klaus_ is exposed. What would he do to you then, you think?"

He could see the vampire's mind racing, going over his options and after a long minute, he could see the defeat in his eyes.

"You can't hide from us forever, Salvatore," Volchok spit out, his voice now void of any trace of charm. "We'll find you again. We'll find _her_ again. Elena. And when we do, just remember this night. Just remember I once gave you a chance to surrender, a curtsy I will not extend the next time we meet."

"I'm allowing you to walk away right now," Damon bit out. "That's also a curtsy I will not extend again."

They glared at each other and when Volchok finally sniffed, turned and walked away, Damon could sense the rest of The Foreboding doing the same, retreating back into the darkness.

"She'll be your undoing, Salvatore!" Volchok yelled without looking back or even slowing down. "Or you'll be hers! Either way, we'll win! You'll lose!"

"We'll see!"

"Oh, that we will!"

As The Foreboding turned the corner and disappeared from his sight, Damon put his senses in hyper drive for a few more minutes, until he knew for sure that they were all gone.

And then he turned back to the window.

Turned back to the girl in the bed.

Turned back to two brown eyes that were teary and boring right into his.

"Elena."

* * *

**Puh, difficult one to write! Hope you liked it!I always try to post chapters as soon as possible, but I don't want to post any bad chapters just because I rushed it! ****Please, let me know if this was a good one! Keep me motivated! I'm a bit needy when it comes to feedback ;-)!**

**xxx LustAndLove**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys! SO SORRY TO KEEP YOU WAITING! I've read every last one of your comments and PM's and I've done my best to get this right as fast as I could! Unfortunately, it's not easy putting emotions and characters' states of mind down on paper in a way so that their future actions make sense! Plus, I'm a bit of a perfectionist which means I don't just write. I write, rewrite, read, reread and then reread again before I post! I just don't want to disappoint you guys! And on that note, enough out of me! I'll let Elena and Damon take over! I hope you enjoy chapter 8!**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Anxiety.

It was an emotion Damon Salvatore hadn't experienced in a _very_ long time, but he was experiencing it now.

And it had nothing to do with being in mortal danger.

It had nothing to do with being threatened by a Foreboding.

It didn't even have anything to do with Klaus picking up on his scent.

No.

It had everything to do with walking through a simple door.

Entering a simple room.

And facing an anything but simple girl.

The door shut behind him with a soft click, but that soft click cut through the heavy silence like a knife.

Elena's eyes were still locked with his and he still had no idea what to say.

Where to even start?

What do you say to someone who's life you almost ended?

What do you say to someone you betrayed in the worst possible way?

And to complicate things further, what if that someone was the first person you've loved in over a hundred years?

His heart raced.

His mouth was dry.

His palms were sweating.

He had to say something. Anything. But his mind was blank. So, unsurprisingly, it wasn't Damon who finally broke the silence. It was Elena, saying in a blissfully strong voice,

"Are you okay?"

If Damon had thought he'd been speechless before, he'd had no idea what was coming. Had she really just asked him if _he_ was okay? Him? The guy who, the last time she'd seen him, had been ripping through her neck?

He must've misunderstood, so just to be sure, he asked, "What?"

"You're bleeding," she said, touching her, still way too pale, cheek.

He mimicked her move and found Volchok had made a nasty gash right above his jaw. The bloody wound was already healing, though. Besides, his injuries weren't what he was worried about. What he was worried about, was the fact that _she _was worried about said injuries. Worry meant she cared. _How_ could she care? She should be furious at him! Or petrified _of_ him! What she _shouldn't_ be, under any circumstances, was _worried_ about him! And the fact that that was exactly what she seemed to be, pissed Damon off! She couldn't be _this_ kind, _this_ good, _this_ forgiving! Not after what he'd done!

"Damon?" she mumbled, frowning, his silence clearly confusing her. "_Are_ you okay?"

The anger swelled in his chest.

No!

No, he wasn't okay!

Off course he wasn't okay!

"You could've died," he snapped, watching her sit up straight.

"I know."

"I almost killed you," he tried again, searching for some sort of appropriate reaction. She must've still been in shock. Any moment now, she was going to snap out of it and she was going to act like a normal person who was faced with her attacker.

At least, that's what he'd thought until she said in a still kind voice, "I knew that was a risk going in."

_She knew that was a risk going in? She knew that by saving me, she would possibly be giving up her own life?_

He hadn't known that. He'd just assumed she'd been naive enough to believe he could stop himself, that everything would turn out alright. And now he found out she'd _known_ she could die?

Didn't she understand the consequences of that decision?

Didn't she understand what her death would've done to him?

And how could this radiant, amazing person even consider throwing it all away over some evil, unredeemable vampire in the first place? She was worth so much more than him! She was worth so much more _to him_ than him! The fact that she'd been willing to sacrifice herself, that she'd been so cavalier about laying down her life, actually infuriated him! He was as angry at her as he would've been at anyone else attacking the woman he loved! As he was at himself!

"Are you going to tell me about your cheek or−"

"A Foreboding was here," he snarled matter-of-factly.

Her eyes widened. Clearly, she _could_ still feel fear. So why the hell didn't she fear him?

"They found us," she said, before frantically starting to pull needles out of her arms, disconnecting her from a string of machines that started beeping like crazy. "We need to go."

"They're gone."

"Still," she said, swinging her legs over the bed. "We need to get ahead of them before−"

The rest of her sentence fell away when she tried to get up. Somehow, she'd managed to raise from the bed, but her legs hadn't been ready for the weight and had given in. She would've fallen flat on her face…if there hadn't been a vampire in the room with amazing reflexes.

Holding her that close, feeling her again, molded the anger into a warmth that spread to every fiber of his being. He recognized the feeling from a long time ago.

Happiness.

She was safe. She was alive. A little paler than before, but still alive. And warm. He could even feel her heart beat strongly, thumping against his own chest. It was the most amazing thing he'd ever felt.

However, that subsided anger came back with a vengeance when she whispered,

"Thanks."

_THANKS? IS SHE ACTUALLY _THANKING_ ME?_

A little too roughly, he planted her butt back down on the bed, snarling, "Don't move."

"Damon, we need−"

"_You_ need a doctor."

"No, I don't. I'm−"

"If you say fine, I'll−"

"−kill me?"

Something in his face must've told her exactly how funny he'd found that joke, because she added in a mumble, "Okay, too soon."

Too soon? Off course it was too soon! It would _always_ be too soon!

"You keep your ass glued to that bed," Damon bit out, his face only inches from hers, red and hard. "Or I swear to God, Elena, I'll _make_ you."

He straightened up after a long staring competition and had his hand already on the door when she snapped, "I don't get why you're angry!"

"Obviously!" He barked before thrashing the door closed behind him.

How could she not understand his anger? How could she not see? Didn't she get that her forgiveness made the guilt, the self-loathing worse?

Didn't she get what she meant to him?

She had _made him_ feel for her and then she'd almost gotten herself killed.

So yes, he was furious.

He was seething.

He was in love.

* * *

"Seriously?"

Damon kept his eyes on the road, his hands so tightly on the wheel his knuckles turned white.

"Come on, Damon!" she snapped, frustrated. "I don't know what I did! Just tell me what I did!"

Elena had been cleared by the doctors, all of them surprised by her fast recovery and her lack of any brain damage, but she sure sounded like a broken record to Damon. She'd been asking the same question over and over again ever since they'd gotten in the car. The fact that he never answered or reacted in any way didn't seem to discourage her.

"I can't believe you're pulling this silent treatment crap on me again."

He could tell he was actually hurting her by keeping quiet. Could tell she wasn't just angry, but even sad because of it. And even though he was pissed off, a part of him still wanted to comfort her. Hold her. Talk to her. Make her smile. But his anger wouldn't let him. It stopped every word, blocked every kind gesture.

_She made us _**feel**, the monster hissed inside his head, over and over again. _Everything. In that moment you looked down at her, that moment when you thought you'd killed her, it all came flooding back! Every emotions we've buried together for decades! Anger. Love. Fear. Agony. Guilt. Remorse. She made that happen, she _**made** **us**_ feel, and then, she has the audacity to almost die? She burdened us with these _**feelings**_ and then planned on dying, leaving us to mourn her? To feel at a time when we don't want to feel anything? I say screw her! Be the selfish bastard you know you are! Get her safe and then leave her to fend for herself! Your responsibility ends the second she sets foot in that safe house! You never promised to do more than get her there! _

His hands almost broke the wheel as the animal roared on, telling him what he already knew. Elena Gilbert was his blind spot. He clearly had no control over himself when it came to her. He'd proven that by letting his guard down and falling in love. And then, he'd proven it again by attacking and draining her. She was his _one_ weakness. And he couldn't have that. He couldn't be weak. Ever. He was fucking Damon Salvatore.

It was clear what he had to do now.

He had to cut her out. Completely.

Before he got in any deeper.

Before he fell any harder.

Before there was no turning back.

"For the love of God, could you please say something! Anything!"

_I love you._

_I hate you._

_I'm leaving you._

"Fine, you stubborn asshole," she hissed, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked away from him, glaring out of the window. "Be that way."

The silence that fell then was heavy, filled with things unsaid, with feelings unexpressed and it was the first time that the silence between them was that loaded. Normally, they were comfortable without words, content.

So, Damon was glad when he could steer the car onto the driveway he'd been heading for and get out of that confined space.

"Is there a point in me asking where we are?" Elena snapped from still inside the vehicle.

He ignored her, making his way to the giant double doors of the clean, white villa.

"That's what I thought!" she yelled angrily. "Well, I'm not getting out of this car until you tell me where we are, Salvatore!"

Damon just rang the doorbell, knowing full well she'd follow him soon enough. After all, she knew the dangers the darkness entailed. Her fear would conquer her stubbornness.

It wasn't long before the doors opened and he was met by a face he hadn't seen in way too long. Pale skin. Chiseled jaw. Light, blue eyes and raven hair that was always styled to perfection. Just as he remembered him.

"Damon Salvatore," his friend smiled widely. "As I live and breathe."

"You don't live _or_ breathe, Emilio," Damon laughed, moving in for a hug. Now, Damon wasn't the hugging-type, but damn, he'd actually missed the man. Emilio Craven had been Damon's partner in crime for decades, until their lives had each led them on different paths, in different directions. They'd tried to keep in touch, though, but when you live as long as they do, maintaining friendships isn't all that easy. Damon had never forgotten about Emilio, though and from the looks off it, Emilio hadn't forgotten about him either.

"God," Emilio said as they let go of each other. "Look at you, you disgustingly handsome bastard. You haven't changed a bit!"

"It sort of comes with the territory," Damon joked as he was led inside the house, an arm thrown amicably over his shoulders.

"Damn. How long has it been?"

"Twenty years, give or take?"

"Something like that. Last time I saw you, you were messing with some geisha's in Japan."

"Right," Damon remembered, smiling. "Man, did that turn out to be a mistake."

"Told you. Never mess with geisha's."

"Especially not with undead ones."

Emilio's loud laugh bounced of the marble floors. "So, my friend, don't get me wrong, I'm delighted you're here, but…why the hell are you here?"

"I've ran in some trouble."

"Don't you always?"

"With Klaus."

Emilio's lips twitched for a second. "Still making powerful enemies left and right, I see."

"I need a place to stay for the night," Damon continued in a serious voice. "Now, I'd understand if you don't want to go near the mess that is Niklaus, but−"

"I thought you knew me better than that, Salvatore," Emilio cut him off, wiggling his eyebrows. "I do so love a good mess."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," he said one split second before his smile dropped and he added, "One question, though."

"Sure."

"What the hell is _she_ doing here?"

Damon looked over his shoulder and found Elena standing in the doorway, her arms still crossed, her eyes still angry.

"She is−" he trailed off, going over the zillion things he could glue to that sentence. In the end, he decided to go with the exact opposite of the truth, saying, "−not important."

Emilio frowned, his gaze switching between Damon and Elena.

"Not important, huh?" Emilio said, his voice suspicious. "I doubt that."

Was it that obvious? Was _he_ that obvious? He hoped not.

"She's just a girl I picked up on the way," he snapped, maybe pressing the point a little too much. "Her name is Elena and she was just about to head upstairs, find a room and leave us alone for the night."

"Actually," Elena hissed, pushing herself between Damon and Emilio. "She was not. Kitchen is this way?"

She walked away from them, putting way too much sway in her step for Damon's taste. And Emilio seemed to notice, too. His eyes had been glued to her since she'd entered and Damon didn't like it. At all.

When Emilio finally focused back on Damon, he said, "You do realize she's−"

"Human?" Damon finished, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, I know."

He understood why Emilio looked so surprised, confused even. Back in the day, Damon had voiced his position on humans on a regular base. They were food, nothing more and everything else that surrounded their kind literally disgusted him.

Their sentiment.

Their gift of making the same mistakes over and over again, never learning, never evolving.

The way they grew tired and old.

So, needless to say, that having Damon show up on his doorstep with a human in tow, probably surprised Emilio a little. Or more than a little, gathering by the way his friend's eyes kept boring into his, a deep wrinkle between his brows.

"She was with me when Klaus attacked," he explained. "And he's after her because of it."

A smile pulled at Emilio's lips, his eyes switching back and forth between Damon's. Clearly, Emilio was amused by something and Damon couldn't help but wonder if he was _really_ that obvious. Could _everyone_ tell what she meant to him? Could _she_?

"Look, the whole thing is complicated," Damon snapped, frustrated.

"No doubt," Emilio sang.

"The only thing that matters right now is that we need somewhere to stay for the night. Can you help us or not?"

Emilio slapped his back, grinning. "Off course I can, my friend. I have a feeling this will be interesting."

"It won't be. Just sleep."

"And dinner."

"I'm not hungry."

"Okay," Emilio said, walking away in the same direction Elena had. "It'll just be me and your companion then, I guess."

Something in the way he'd said that rubbed Damon the wrong way and before he knew it, he was in a large, stunning dining room. Elena's head was already buried in the fridge of the fully-equipped open kitchen and Emilio was watching her with way too much interest in his eyes. Suddenly, this reunion with his long lost friend felt a lot less heartily then it had a minute ago. Suddenly, Damon regretted ever even ringing Emilio's doorbell.

* * *

"Shame on you, Salvatore? The girl was famished!"

Elena cast Emilio a radiant smile, leaning back in her chair, her hand on her full tummy. "He tends to forget I have to eat."

"Apparently."

Damon clutched his glass of red wine tighter, trying to hide the anger that was boiling inside of him. All during dinner, Elena and Emilio had been talking, laughing, smiling like they'd known each other for fucking years instead of two hours. It annoyed him beyond measures.

"How about dessert?"

"No," Damon snapped, shooting his 'friend' a meaningful look. "She's full."

"So, you'll speak _for_ her, but not _to_ her?" Emilio sang, smiling a smile that now pissed Damon off. "What?" Emilio continued. "Did you think I hadn't noticed how you've been ignoring her? Why is that anyway?" He'd addressed the latter question to Elena, who simply shrugged and said, "Your guess is as good as mine. Personally, I think he just enjoys pushing my buttons."

"Who wouldn't."

Damon clutched his chair tighter, trying to stop himself from flinging across the table and rip that seductive smile of Emilio's face. And as if that smile wasn't bad enough, the blush on Elena's cheeks in response to his friend's teasing made his heart literally hurt, made his stomach clench. He hated that someone else could make her blush like that. And he hated that he hated it.

_Cut her out._

"She's going to bed now," Damon growled.

"No," Elena said defiantly. "She's not."

"We're leaving early tomorrow, " Damon hissed, addressing Emilio instead of Elena. "So, we should get some rest."

"Nobody's stopping you, Salvatore," Elena chimed. "Go to bed if you're tired. Personally, I'm enjoying the evening."

"As am I," Emilio agreed, raising his glass at her.

"So," Elena said, breaking the tension in the room. "Damon told me, back when he still spoke to me, that you and him go back a long time."

"A very long time."

"Good, then maybe you can help me with something. Tell me, has he always been like this?"

"You mean stubborn, opinionated and kind of a smart ass?"

"Yup."

"Always."

"Good to know he's not just like that around me."

"Oh, no, he's like that around everyone," Emilio said, casting him a playful look.

Clearly, Emilio was enjoying himself immensely. It was obvious Damon wasn't, but his friend didn't care.

"I believe competing with Stefan made him into the sarcastic ass he is today," he continued, earning a soft growl from Damon. "I call it the older sibling –syndrome. Especially firstborns tend to become egotistical, spoiled grown-ups."

"I wouldn't say that," Elena sang, taking a sip from her glass of white wine.

"Oh," Emilio laughed. "You're a first born."

Damon straightened up a little, his interest in the conversation growing. It shouldn't be, though. He shouldn't care about her past, her family. The more he found out about her, the more he seemed to love her and the whole point of being cold to her was falling out of love, was pushing her out of his life, out of that nuisance in his chest that kept beating faster whenever she was around.

"So," Emilio continued, ignoring the fact that Elena hadn't responded. "How does your brother or sister feel about you hanging out with a vampire?"

"We're not _hanging out_," Elena said, her voice a touch harder. "And my brother doesn't know."

_She has a brother. How did I not know that?_

_Why would you want to know? _The monster snarled._ You don't care, remember._

"Well, obviously you haven't told him about the vampire-thing, but you're still on a road trip with a tall, dark and handsome stranger. He must not care for that."

Elena shifted in her seat, her eyes everywhere but on either of the vampires sitting with her. "He doesn't know."

"How does he not know?" Emilio asked, frowning. "I mean, you've been away from home for a while now."

"Yes."

"Someone must be missing you."

"Not really."

How could no one be missing Elena?

"How about a boyfriend?"

Damon's stomach clenched.

"No."

"Fiancée?"

"No."

Emilio leaned a little closer to her over the table. "Husband?"

"No."

He leaned back again, tipping his head to the side. He was clearly determined to find out more about her, no matter how uncomfortable the subject of her life made her. On the one hand, Damon understood the need to figure her out, but on the other hand, he wanted Emilio to drop it and let her be. He didn't like to see Elena squirm.

"How about parents?" Emilio continued persistently. "They must be noticing your absence."

"No," she now snapped, her eyes finding Damon. He could feel her gaze on him, even though he never made eye contact. He couldn't see those big brown eyes and not melt. But he knew she was looking at him for help, to stop Emilio and Damon wanted to help her. With every fiber of his being. But he couldn't. He couldn't come to her rescue. He couldn't let himself care.

"Everyone has parents," Emilio continued.

"I didn't say I didn't _have_ them."

"Then how could they not notice you're gone?"

"Is there a reason you want to know?"

"Just curiosity."

"You should be careful with that. You know what it did to the cat."

He grinned and Damon could see Emilio's interest in Elena growing. He was falling into the same trap he had. He was becoming intrigued and to their kind, intrigue was a dangerous enemy. It was so rare to them, that when they came across it, they got obsessed, stopped thinking clearly.

"Did she really just threaten me?" Emilio snickered at Damon. "Did this _human_ really just threaten _me_, a vampire?"

Damon forced a cruel smile on his lips as he uttered the words that actually burned his tongue. "She doesn't know her place."

"Excuse me?" Elena snarled. He could feel her glare burning into the back of his head, could hear the anger in her voice and to his horror, he could hear a trace of sadness and hurt in there, too. He was hurting her. And it killed him. But he couldn't care. He couldn't. So, instead of taking her in his arms and begging for forgiveness, he added insult to injury by saying, "She doesn't know how to behave around our kind. She thinks she's our equal."

"But she's not."

Damon snorted. "Obviously."

He could hear her scrape her chair back and then fast, light footsteps hit the marble. She'd had enough, running out of the kitchen, running away from him, dismantling everything on her path as she made her way upstairs.

She was furious. Maybe even hated him.

Good.

That's what he'd wanted.

So why did his every being hurt?

"She's quite something."

Damon finished his drink, his eyes hard on Emilio's.

"What?" his friend asked innocently. "Did I say something wrong?"

Damon kept quiet, putting his glass down a little too roughly.

"Was I supposed to ignore her, too?"

"No, but you could've toned down the mating." Damon's voice was dripping with spite, but he found himself unable to tone it down. He was seething, enraged in a way he'd never been before. And that's saying something.

"I was just talking to her," his friend mocked in a sniveling sing-song. "And why do you care anyway? Are you jealous? Is _Damon Salvatore_ jealous?"

"Off course not."

"Because if you're interested in her, all you have to do is tell me and−"

"I'm not interested in her," he ground out between clenched teeth. "She's human. You know how I feel about humans."

"And yet, for some reason, here you are. Acting all territorial. Protecting her."

"I just want to keep her away from Klaus," he said acidly. "That's all this is about. Screwing Klaus out of what he wants. Nothing more."

"So, you wouldn't mind if I went after her?"

His fists convulsed with suppressed rage. "No, not at all."

"Are you sure, because if there's some reason you don't want me to−"

"No," Damon cut him off, his voice strained as he did his best to keep up appearances. "It's fine. But you do realize we're leaving tomorrow?"

"No worries, I only need a night."

The veins in his neck bulged out in ridges, his fangs pushed to break free. He wanted to lunge across that table and use Emilio's ribcage as a hat, but instead, he spewed, "Knock yourself out," and hurled himself out of that room.

* * *

_Trust me, you don't want to know me. _

Damon couldn't say he hadn't been warned. She'd told him on the very first day they'd met. In the very first minutes, she'd told him to walk away. To leave her alone. To pick one of the other women in the room.

But he hadn't. And as he put on a fresh pair of pants, rubbing a towel over his wet hair, he wondered what would've happened if he _had_ listened.

He never would've been in that alley with her when The Foreboding attacked. She never would've been in danger. They never would've gotten closer. He never would've fallen in love with her.

In short, not knowing her would've saved him a lot of trouble.

Throwing the towel in a corner, he leaned against the floor to ceiling window of the bedroom, looking out over the dark garden below. The only light came from the full moon, but it was enough for him to detect her immediately. Something told him he would detect her even in complete darkness. And as he watched her standing there, her bare feet in the grass, her hair fawning her shoulders and cheeks, the white dress he'd packed for her hugging her curves, he realized, to his own frustration, that even if he could go back to that night in Venice, he wouldn't change a thing. He still would've chosen her. He still would've talked to her. Because if he hadn't talked to her, he never would've seen her smile. He never would've heard her laugh. He never would've known the beauty that was Elena Gilbert.

_Damn it, Salvatore, stop! Have some self-control! Stop staring at her and go rip someone's throat out or something! _

He didn't have to look far to find a potential victim.

Emilio entered the garden, heading straight for Elena. When she noticed him, she smiled, running her hands over her cheeks. Had she been crying?

They started talking and even though Damon generally loved sound proof rooms−they were pretty much the only places Damon could actually sleep−he hated them now. He couldn't hear a word they were saying. He considered opening a window, but he knew Emilio would hear and he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of confirming what the vampire already seemed to know. That Elena wasn't just some human to him.

Damon shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to stop himself from hitting something when he saw Emilio move closer to Elena, blocking the girl from his view with his broad frame.

Frustrated, he pressed his eyes shut, no longer wanting to see his so called friend hit on her. He shouldn't be bothered, though.

He shouldn't care.

He _didn't_ care.

And he kept telling himself that over and over again , believing that, at some point, it would become the truth. Or that was the theory, anyway. In practice, all of that went straight out the window the moment he opened his eyes again and saw Elena backed up against a tree, Emilio's hand on her chin, forcing her head sideways as his other hand ripped off the bandage on her neck, exposing the fresh puncture marks Damon had left behind.

_She's not in danger,_ the monster tried, attempting to force Damon to stay put, to stop him from doing what his every instinct told him to do which was get his ass down there and tare Emilio away from Elena.

_He won't hurt her. He's your friend. He won't hurt her._

_But he's touching her!_

_So what? You don't have a monopoly on touching her._

_She clearly doesn't like it!_

_Your only concern is to keep her safe from Klaus! You're not her personal bodyguard!_

Emilio moved closer to her, burying his nose in her hair.

_She's not in danger._

His lips caressed her ear, whispering something.

_He won't hurt her. _

His lips ran down her neck.

_He's your friend._

And then, it all happened so fast, he'd barely processed the vampire had actually bit down on her neck before he was in that yard, grabbing Emilio's shoulders and flinging him halfway across the lawn.

Emilio landed gracefully, reminding Damon of the fact that the vampire was older than him, stronger. But in that moment, he didn't care. He was seeing red and every droplet of his fury was aimed at one person: the vampire who he used to consider a friend and who still had some of her blood on his lips.

"What the fuck are you doing, Salvatore," Emilio rumbled, smoothing his hair back.

"What the fuck am _I _doing?" Damon growled back, his hands balled up in fists. "What the fuck are _you_ doing, _friend_?"

"Nothing you haven't done before."

Gut wrenching guilt and disgust cut through the anger for a second as he remembered the night that haunted him, the _bite_ that haunted him.

"You have no idea how big of an idiot you're being right now, Damon," Emilio added, his eyes flickering to Elena. "You shouldn't be protecting her."

"And why's that?"

"She'll be your downfall."

_Tell me something I don't know._

"Come on, lighten up!" Emilio laughed, pushing Damon's anger to a new high.

"Lighten up?"

"Yes!" he snickered. "Salvatore, this is just like the good old days! Two friends, sharing a meal−"

"We're not sharing shit!"

"Fine, more for me than."

Emilio moved to push past him, trying to get to Elena. Damon grabbed his arm, glaring at the vampire who he now only felt disgust and anger towards.

"Don't," Damon warned, tightening his grip.

Emilio glanced at his clutching hand, a disappointed smile on his lips. "You can't stop me, Salvatore. So, why not just join me?"

"No."

"You know you want to."

"Screw you."

"Can you remember what it was like to drink from her?"

Even though he tried to stop it, his mind flashed back to that night and for a split second, it was like he could actually taste her on his tongue again. And, God help him, he liked it.

"She's human, Damon. Food. Nothing more, remember," Emilio said, his voice low. "Besides, I'm older. You're no match for me."

He was right. If it came down to a fight, Damon would never be able to overpower Emilio. He'd get himself killed.

Slowly, he let go of the vampire's arm, who cast him one last victorious smile before he headed for Elena who's eyes were wide in horror and disbelief. She hadn't expected him to just give up. She'd expected him to fight. For her. After everything, after almost killing her, after being a total asshole to her, she still believed that in his core, he was good. That he would do the right thing.

And she was right.

He would always do the right thing.

By her.

And therein lied the ultimate truth he could no longer deny, no longer suppress. In his desperation to push her out, to get her out of his heart before it was too late to walk away, he'd overlooked one thing.

It was already too late.

He loved her unconditionally, undeniably. He loved her in a way he'd never thought anyone could love another. Would this girl be his downfall? Yes. Probably. But he'd rather fall down with her, then live the rest of his immortal life without her. So there it was. His days of being the ruthless killer he'd once praised himself to be, were over. She'd changed him, awakened things inside of him he'd tried so hard to keep dormant and no matter how much he'd tried to fight it, they would never go back to sleep.

And there was no way in hell, he was going to lose her.

Not tonight.

Not ever.

Which is why, when he tore a branch of a nearby tree and made his way too Emilio−who was too distracted by drinking Elena to notice him− he didn't feel one twinge of guilt or waver as he dug that branch in Emilio's back, piercing his heart.

He half expected to feel some sort of remorse when his former friend collapsed, falling back in his arms, but all he felt was relief that Elena was safe and that overwhelming love for the girl who looked like a deer caught in headlights, clutching her neck, her eyes switching between Damon and the dead vampire in his arms.

"Damon, I−" she trailed off, her eyes teary as she softly shook her head.

He would never know what she wanted to say, because before she finished her sentence, she ran off, storming up the stairs.

He wanted to follow her, but at the same time, he realized she probably didn't want him too. After all, thanks to him, she'd been attacked twice now. Once by Damon himself and once by the friend he'd brought her to.

He was on a roll.

Furious at himself, he grabbed a shovel from the shed in the corner, threw Emilio's body over his shoulder and headed for the nearby woods.

* * *

"You shouldn't have touched her, mate." Damon threw the shovel aside, crouching down beside the pile of dirt where his friend laid underneath. "I would like to be able to say I'm sorry, but I'm not. It was a coward move staking you in the back, but you were right. If we'd gone head to head, I would've lost and you would've killed her before my body was cold. I couldn't let that happen. I love her."

He patted the earth before getting up and hurrying back to the house. He was worried about Elena−what else was new−and he needed to make sure she was alright.

He wasn't sure what he expected to find when he returned to the house.

A hysterical Elena.

A sad Elena.

A traumatized Elena.

But he was definitely expecting _an_ Elena.

Not an empty house.

Not an empty room.

Cursing under his breath, he leaned back against the wall, going over his options.

One, he could let her go. A part of him knew she'd be better off without him, finding a mortal man, living a normal life. It would hurt as hell, but it would be the right thing to do. The only problem was that now wasn't the time to let go. Klaus was still out there. The Foreboding were still hunting them. She needed him, needed to be protected. And she knew that, so the fact that she'd ran off brought him to the heartbreaking conclusion that she'd rather risk death than stay with him for another second. She'd had enough. Unfortunately, she had no choice in the matter. He wasn't going to let her put herself in danger. He would protect her whether she liked it or not. Once they reached the safe house, he would do as she clearly wanted and leave, but not before that.

So, he went for option two, which was tracking her down before The Foreboding did and dragging her ass to safety.

As Damon busted out the door, the first thing he did was take a deep breath, trying to find her scent, but before he could pinpoint her location, the clouds above burst open and a thick curtain of rain evaporated every trace of Elena. Luckily, he'd caught just a little whiff of her before and knew the general direction to head in.

It took him about five minutes before he found her, walking beside the road. She'd changed before leaving the house, but her jeans and black shirt were already soaked. She was probably freezing and it was only when he wanted to shrug off his jacket to give it to her, that he realized he wasn't wearing a jacket. Or a shirt for that matter. He'd never put one on after leaving the shower. He'd been too distracted by Emilio and her in the garden.

A car drove past and while Damon moved aside to disappear further into the darkness, Elena started waving frantically.

_She's hitchhiking! Is she out of her freaking mind?_

Luckily, the driver didn't stop, ignoring her, making Elena throw her hands up in the air, frustrated.

"Elena!" he yelled, thunder booming through the night.

She froze, her heart speeding up. Clearly, she was afraid. Of him. And why wouldn't she be? He'd sworn to protect her, to keep her from harm and so far, he'd done the complete opposite over and over again. Why the hell would she still trust him?

He moved in front of her, vampire-speed. Her eyes were red, filled with tears and the streaks on her cheeks gave away that she'd been crying for a while now. Seeing her like this−her eyes dropped to the ground, her head bent down in defeat−made him feel like a huge weight was pressing down on his chest, cutting off his air supply. Where was her warrior spirit? He couldn't have broken that, could he? It had to be there, in her eyes. It had to be. He couldn't have destroyed everything she was. There was no way. He would never be able to live with himself if he had.

"Elena!" he said again, having to yell to be heard over the downpour. "Look at me!"

She just shook her head, more and more salty drops trickling down her chin.

"Elena!"

It took another few seconds, but finally, those brown eyes found his. However, they were so immersed with anguish he wished he'd never forced her to look at him. He'd done that. He'd broken her spirit. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than take every memory she had of him and Emilio away. He wanted to erase his destructive presence from her life and give her a fresh start, but Klaus wouldn't stop. He'd still hunt her, compelled or not. It wouldn't matter to him. He'd still use her as leverage.

"Where are you going, Elena!" he yelled, wiping his soaked hair out of his face.

She wrapped her arms around herself, her full red lips trembling. "As far away from you as I can!"

He didn't know words could hurt so much. "The Foreboding won't stop! You'll be a sitting duck without me!"

She frowned, opening her mouth to speak, but Damon cut her off, snapping, "Turn your ass around, Gilbert! I'll get you to Paris, I'll get you to the safe house and after that, we'll go our separate ways!"

She blinked wildly. "But−"

He grabbed her arm, spinning her around and, as gently as possible, dragged her along with him. In the beginning, she let him, but then, she dug her heels into the ground and jerked her arm out of his hand.

He moved to grab her again, but she flinched, taking a step back.

He growled. "Elena−"

"What are you doing?"

"I told you, I'm getting you to Paris!"

"Why?" she yelled. Lightening cut through the darkness, bathing the girl in front of him in a white light. And there it was, just a flicker, but in her eyes, he saw that fight again.

"What do you mean why?" he snarled.

"Why would you get me to Paris?"

"You'll be safe there!"

"But why do you care?" she screamed, the thunder getting louder.

Damon wasn't sure what to say to that, so he just stood there, watching her grow angrier and angrier.

"I can't figure you out, Damon!" she yelled, thick raindrops decorating her eyelashes. "And I'm _good_ at figuring people out! They're like an open book to me! But you−" she clutched her hair, frustrated.

"One minute you're nice to me, you're funny and charming and _amazing_ and the next you're angry and mean and a total asshole! And I get it! I get that you hate me after everything! I get that I'm a nuisance to you! I mean, let's face it, without me, you would've been in Paris already! You don't need a car! You can move faster than that! But still, you're driving because of me, slowing yourself down! And speaking of cars, I totaled yours! And then, being the idiot that I am, I get myself admitted into a hospital, stalling you long enough for the Foreboding to find you and beat you into a bloody pulp! And to top it all off I just made you kill−" she trailed off, new tears flooding down her cheeks, mixing in with the rain and for the first time in his long life, Damon didn't know what to say. He was actually speechless. Was he understanding her correctly? Did she actually blame herself for everything that had happened? She wasn't on this road, in the middle of a storm, because she was scared of him and wanted to get away from him? She was there because she was ashamed? Because she thought he _blamed_ her for Emilio's death? That's why she was crying? She was sad because she thought he _wanted_ her to go? If that was the case, it could only mean one thing. She cared about what he thought of her. She cared. About him. Was that even possibly? Before, he wouldn't have dared to even dream of it, but now, seeing her stand there, soaked and angry, that nasty little emotion he probably hated above any other emotion, clawed its way to the surface.

Hope.

Was it possible that Elena felt the same way he did? Was it possible that she craved him as desperately as he craved her? Damon's body felt like it had just been hit by the lightening above. Every inch of him felt electrified, boiling, tingling, on edge.

"I know this probably doesn't mean anything to you right now," she sobbed. "I know that you hate me, but you need to know that I'm sorry! He was your friend and I…I'm so−"

"He wasn't my friend."

"Since when?"

"Since the moment he laid his hands on you."

"See," she breathed, her voice softer than before. "Why would you say that. You're mean to me all day and then you come here all mad and shirtless and suddenly act protective again, saying _amazing_ things like that−" she trailed off, adding in a whisper, "I don't understand."

"Yes, you do." He moved closer to her, leaving only a thin sliver of air between them. He could see the skin on her cheeks and neck getting redder, her pupils dilating, could hear her heart rate accelerating. "You understand. You know. You _have to_ know."

She swallowed hard and then, Damon couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't _not_ touch her. Slowly, he ran his hand up her neck, up to her face, caressing her blush, cupping her cheek. God, she was so soft. So warm. Goosebumps rose underneath his touch, her body reacting to him in a way that erased the last flickers of restrain he still had left.

He _had_ to kiss her.

He needed her lips, _craved_ her lips.

His eyes intently on hers, he dipped his head down, his hand moving to the back of her neck, holding her in place.

"Damon," she breathed, her skin now glowing, radiating heath. "Don't."

"Stop me," he growled.

And then finally, after nights of fantasizing about it, Damon Salvatore kissed Elena Gilbert.

Gently, he suckled her upper lip in his mouth, tasting her for the very first time. And she tasted…intoxicating. Her lips were dripping with sweetness, with heat, like they were covered in chilly infused honey and the mixture miraculously worked. She was so overwhelmingly delicious, so heartwarmingly perfect, that he couldn't imagine ever wanting to stop. And yet, after only a few stolen moments, he found himself pulling back, leaving his lips to linger only inches from hers, gauging her reaction. The truth is he wanted to ravage her, deepen his kiss, taste every single part of her, but at the same time, he couldn't continue without knowing. Knowing is she was feeling it too. How perfect this was. How extraordinary. His body quivered as he waited, staring into her eyes, searching for some sign she wanted this as much as he did, that she was as lost as he was. His brain slowly turned into jelly as they looked at each other. Her eyes were unreadable, her forehead creased into a frown. There was a short, heart stopping moment, where it could've gone either way. To Damon, it felt as if the air itself was holding its breath, waiting, anticipating.

And then, she leaned fractionally towards him, her eyes glued to his until the very last moment before she finally gave in, pressing her lips to his in such a tender way Damon's heart leaped. Well, it began tender, anyway. In no time, their kiss grew more urgent, their lips molding together with a deep, hungry desperation. Her mouth on his felt so familiar and at the same time so uniquely new. Damon had obviously been kissed before, in many ways, by many woman, with various levels of skill, but never had he felt like this. Like his soul was no longer attached to his body, though he was very aware of the way that body reacted to her.

And the way hers reacted to him.

He could feel her hands on his chest, his bare chest, trailing up until her fingers tangled in his hair, clutching his raven locks. She wanted more. Demanded more. And he was more than willing to give it to her. Roughly, his hand found the nape of her back, pressing her closer until her breast squeezed against him, until their hips met. She moaned at the friction of their bodies. Her desire for him igniting something carnal within Damon. Growling in her mouth, Damon's fingers trailed down until he found the hem of her shirt, sliding his hands underneath it, forcing the fabric up.

And that's where he made his mistake.

Suddenly, Elena pulled away as if his lips burned hers.

"Elena?" he breathed, his voice hoarse as he reached out for her.

She took a step back, taking his heart with her and crushing it.

"Don't," she whimpered, shaking her head. "Don't do this to me."

"I'm sorry," he said, realizing he'd wanted too much, too fast. "I shouldn't have−"

"I can't−"she blinked wildly, her eyes filled with mixed emotions. That's when Damon knew this wasn't just about him trying to take her shirt off. His heart sank as he understood this was about the whole situation. This was about the kiss. The feelings behind the kiss. The meaning behind the kiss. The consequences of the kiss.

"I can't do this," she said, her voice tougher.

Her words cut him like a knife through the heart, a heart he'd left exposed, vulnerable and was now being stomped on as a reward. However, instead of reinforcing that heart, instead of doing what he always did and shutting down, he found himself whispering, "Please, don't do this.'

The rain couldn't hide the single tear that trickled down her cheek. "I'm sorry, Damon."

"Elena," he breathed. "Don't you get it? Don't you see?"

She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Damon added, "This isn't just some fling in the rain, Elena. You must feel that. You must know that I'm in−"

"Don't!" she cut him off, her eyes wide, panicky even. "Don't say it, Damon."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't give you what you want."

"I want you."

"And I can't give you _me_."

"Elena, you and I−"

"No, Damon!" she yelled, her voice almost manic. "I can't love−"

"−a vampire," he finished for her, the truth hitting him. "You can't love a vampire."

He looked at her, praying she'd deny it, but she just stood there, her mouth open, no words coming out. He'd hit the nail on the head. This entire time, she'd been telling him he was more human than he thought, that he wasn't a monster, but when push came to shove, she clearly didn't believe that herself. And even though his heart was breaking into a million pieces, he couldn't blame her. Truth be told, it was probably smart of her to reject him. A life with him would be filled with darkness and danger. Hell, these past couple of days with him had been filled with darkness and danger. Why would she possibly want more? They were almost in Paris, she was almost rid of him, she almost had her life back. Why would she choose to stay with him? Suddenly, underneath he pain and anger, he found a trace of relief. Relief that she'd been smart enough to do what he'd failed to do and had kept him far away from her heart. If she'd fallen in love with him, if he'd _made her_ love him, that would've been the most selfish thing he'd ever done and in the end, he couldn't be selfish with her. Not with her. He had to let her go.

"Damon," she finally said, her eyes a touch softer. "I wasn't going to say that."

"Sure you were."

"No, I was−"

"It's okay, Elena. I get it. You can't love a monster."

She let out a deep sigh, taking a step towards him. "You're not a−"

"Let's just drop it."

"But−"

"We'll forget this happened and move on." The words actually made him physically ill. How could he move on after _that_? After tasting her? Feeling her? Kissing her?

"So we can go back to before?" she asked, her voice shaking a bit. "We can be friends?"

_Friends._ "Sure. No problem."

He knew his words lacked conviction when her eyes pierced his, begging.

"Let's just go, Elena," he said, already turning around.

"Damon−"

He ignored her, walking away and even though he never looked back, he knew she was following him, keeping her distance. A distance he needed. How could he look at her now, look at those lips, without reliving that kiss? That soul healing kiss that apparently had meant nothing to her. And he couldn't _not_ look at her.

He loved her.

He hated her.

And he was only a few hours away from leaving her. Their next stop was Paris, the safe house and worst of all, Stefan.

* * *

**Pfew, this one was a tough one you guys! Kissing scenes will be the end of me! On to writing action-scenes, SMUT-scenes, Stefan-scenes, Lexi-scenes, Klaus-scenes and...dead-scenes maybe? No, surely not. Then again...:-D. Yes, i'm a tease! Please, continue your comments! They are truly what keeps me going at times when I want to give up!**

**XXX LustAndLove**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey guys! Again, sorry for the long wait, but life is hectic over here! Long shifts at work and buying my own place takes up a whole lot of my time!And then there's the whole thing about me being a perfectionist and rereading everything a zillion times :p! **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know!**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

_Because what's worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?_ ― James Patterson

The first rays of sunlight were trickling through the grey clouds above. The air smelled crisp and fresh after the thunderstorm of the night before, but Damon wasn't in the mood to appreciate it. It had only been two hours since his heart had been ripped out and stomped on and even though he didn't think he could stand the pain for much longer, he knew he'd have to endure it.

Forever.

He loved Elena Gilbert. He would love Elena Gilbert until the day he truly died. And if there was life after that, he'd love her still. There was nothing he could do about it. But he'd be damned if he was going to stick around and see her every day, have her within his reach, all the while knowing he could never have her. He couldn't do that. He hated to admit it, but he just wasn't strong enough. So, once _she_ was safe, _he_ was gone.

More aggressively than necessary, Damon changed lanes. The cars behind him honked angrily, but Damon ignored them. And he did the same with the startled look Elena shot him. In fact, he'd been ignoring _her_ ever since that scene in the rain. He was ticked off. He knew he had no right to be, though. So she couldn't love a vampire, so what? It was smart on her part. And it's not like Elena had lead him on. Shehadn't been playing him for a fool. _He_ had been the fool in believing she _could_ love someone like him.

Still…there had been a moment−a short moment−when she'd kissed him back. And in that moment, he could've sworn she'd felt the way he did. He'd felt it in her hands running over his chest, in her lips molding against his. How could he have been so wrong?

He shot a careful glance at the girl beside him. Her hair was still damp from the rain, but she'd switched clothes, now sporting a fresh pair of jeans and a salmon knitted top. Why hadn't he packed her more warm, bulky sweaters? Then again, she'd probably look just as mouthwatering in those.

"We made it."

Swallowing hard at the unexpected sound of her sweet voice, Damon looked away from her, following Elena's gaze to the sign that read _Paris._

"You actually did it."

"You sound surprised," Damon growled.

"Not surprised," she said, casting him a heartbreaking smile. "Impressed."

Damon wanted to smile back, but he couldn't get his lips to curl up. Not when he could still taste her on them. Plus, there was really nothing to be happy about. Not as far as he was concerned, anyway. Sure, they were in Paris, the place they'd been heading for this entire time, but it was also the place where he was going to leave her. _Elena_ didn't seem very heartbroken about it, though, which was ironic since it was _destroying_ his heart.

He looked away from her radiant face, focusing back on the road.

"Do you think we'll make it before nightfall?" she asked.

Damon nodded, turning a corner.

"Are you nervous about seeing your brother?"

"No."

"Are you looking forward to seeing him?"

"No."

"I am."

"Good for you."

"Damon−" she trailed off.

"What?" he snapped.

She sighed. "Nothing. Never mind."

"No, please, if you have something to say, by all do means−"

"You're being mean," she said softly.

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are. Why can't you just talk to me?"

"I _am_ talking to you."

"Yeah, but as little as possible and like I'm the last person you want to spend time with."

"_I _am not the one who doesn't want to spend time with you. I made that perfectly clear last night."

"Damon, you have to understand something about last night−"

"I understand everything I need to understand."

"No, you don't. Damon, last night−"

"Nope," he cut her off, his foot pressing down harder on the gas.

"But−"

"Not here. Not now. Not ever, Elena," Damon barked.

"So you're seriously just going to pretend nothing happened?"

"Yup."

"Then treat me like you treated me before. Like I'm your friend."

"We were never friends."

"Yes, we were. "

"No," Damon snarled. "We were always more, Elena. To me, _you_ were always more."

They fell silent and when Damon careful glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, he saw she was watching him with an expression on her face he couldn't quite figure out.

"And now?" she whispered after a long, tense moment. "What am I now? What are _we_ now?"

"Now−" Damon snapped, steering the car towards a river. "−we're exactly where we need to be."

"What are you doing?" she said, her voice a touch panicky.

He didn't answer, instead accelerating even more.

"Damon, there's nothing there!"

He ignored her.

"Damon!" Elena shrieked, the restless water coming closer and closer. "Don't do this!"

"I have to."

"Damon!" she screamed a second before the car hit the water.

And then, the water was gone.

Instead, they were now driving through grass, towards a giant castle that hadn't been there a second ago. He'd forgotten how big it was, but then again, it had to be for its purpose.

"What the−"

"I told you it was hidden."

"Yeah," Elena leaned forward in her seat, clearly not believing her eyes. "I thought that meant it was hard to get to, not invisible."

"Witches," Damon simply said.

"Pretty powerful ones if they can hide _this_! I'd expected a wooden cabin or a cave! Not a freaking estate!"

"Yeah well, expectations can be a dangerous thing," Damon mumbled, coming to a screeching halt.

"Damon, seriously, enough with the passive aggressiveness! We need to talk this out! I want−"

He was out of that car before she could finish her sentence. But she was right behind him.

He was going to miss that stubbornness.

"This is ridiculous," she snapped, catching up with him. "You're really going to let last night ruin everything?"

"Everything?" Damon bellowed. "According to you, there's nothing to ruin."

"Off course there is!" Elena screamed, almost tripping over her own feet as she tried to keep up with Damon's pace. "Us! What we were before! We were friends! Or at least, _you_ were _my_ friend!"

"So what?"

"So what?"

"Yeah, so what! I'm sure you have plenty of friends to replace me."

She sniffed, snarling, "And you came to that conclusion after the many phone calls you've seen me make to these hypothetical friends? Or after the full force of a police corps came down on you because one of those friends reported me missing?"

Damon hated how he could feel that human part of him give into her. How it felt for her. How it wanted to know her entire story. Damon Salvatore, the human, wanted nothing more than to make her smile. To be her friend. To be everything she wanted him to be.

But he couldn't. He couldn't be her friend. Being her _friend_, would kill him.

Keeping his eyes on the doors, he stalked up the porch. He wanted to get away from her, put distance between them before his resolve faded completely. But she wasn't going to make it easy on him. Before he could knock, Elena forced herself between Damon and the door, pressing her back against the wood.

"I'm not letting you pass until we talk! Like grown-ups!"

Damon sniffed. "Do you really think you can stop me from getting inside?"

"I think that, deep down, you want to hear what I have to say."

"I don't have a deep down."

"Bullshit."

Damon's eyes narrowed into little slivers as he pushed his palms against the door on either side of her head, cornering her in. As he leaned forward, his fang bared, his intend was to intimidate her, scare her, show her the monster inside.

And then, he noticed something that made him change gears.

Her entire body reacted to him in a way it shouldn't.

Not after last night.

Not after her rejection.

Damon intensified his gaze, confused. As big of an enigma Elena still was to him, now, standing this close to her, he figured out one thing about her. "I'm more than just a friend to you."

She blinked wildly by his announcement, snapping, "I told you, you're not. Why do you keep insisting−"

She trailed off as Damon ducked his head down, putting his face only inches from hers.

"Last time I checked−" he growled. "−you don't get turned on by just _friends_."

"I'm not turned on by you." Her voice was unsteady as she said it. Something she noticed herself, too. In an attempt to cover it up, Elena broke eye contact and sniffed, slowly shaking her head. "And this is ridiculous."

She was about to walk away, but Damon refused to let her off the hook that easily. He wasn't done with her just yet. Roughly, he grabbed her shoulders, pushing her back into place.

"Ridiculous, huh?" He rumbled, his eyes darkening as he pressed himself against her, head to toe, plastering her against the door. "Then tell me, sweetness, why is your heart racing?"

"You're scaring me," she breathed. "That's why."

His lips twitched. "No, Elena Gilbert isn't scared that easily."

She swallowed hard against him, her lips parting slightly.

"Plus," Damon continued, his confidence growing…along with other parts of him. "Fear doesn't explain why your pupils are dilated. Why there are goose bumps all over your arms. Or why there's a flush spreading from here−" his fingertips caressed her chest, grazing a path up to her cheek. "−to here. And then off course, there's the fact that in these few seconds I've been standing this close to you, you've already wetted your lips twice."

She opened her mouth to speak, to object, but when no words made it out, her eyes just dropped. Unable to stop himself, he cradled her cheeks, forcing her eyes back on his. It was like gravity, this thing between them, a pull as strong as the tides and unlike anything he'd ever felt before. There was no way she wasn't feeling that too.

"All those little things are signs of arousal, sweetness," Damon continued, his voice husky. "Not fear."

"Okay," she admitted, her brown eyes reflecting her stubborn spirit. "Maybe I _am_ a little turned on. It's no secret you're an attractive guy."

His thumbs grazed her cheekbones, making her eyes flutter slightly.

"So it's just physical?" he asked, fighting the urge to smile smugly.

She nodded lazily.

"Nothing more?"

"No," she croaked.

"So, if I kissed you right now," he growled, one hand sliding to the back off her neck. "You wouldn't kiss me back?"

"No." But even though her words denied him, her body…her body pulled him in, begged for him even. He could feel her skin warm underneath his touch, could feel her blood heat up.

He kept his eyes locked on hers as he pushed against her neck, forcing her face closer to his. "Prove it, Gilbert."

The tension between them was so thick Damon could smell it, taste it. His lips lingered only inches from hers, their noses grazing, her warm breath moistening his lips…and then the door opened and a female voice shrieked, "Damon?"

And just like that, the moment was over and whatever progress he'd made with Elena evaporated right in front of his eyes. As soon as Lexi had spoken, she had jumped away from him as if he was on fire, her eyes wide and filled with pure panic. Not exactly the reaction a man wants to see while trying to kiss the woman he loves.

"Lexi," Damon gnarled. "Perfect timing, as always."

The blond smiled, cocking an eyebrow as her gaze found Elena. "And this must be the girl Stefan told us you were bringing."

Elena frowned.

"Lexi, Elena," Damon rushed, pointing back and forth between them. "Elena, Lexi."

"Nice introduction, brute," Lexi said, rolling her eyes as she took Elena's hand. "Alexia Branson, but everyone calls me Lexi. Nice to meet you."

"Elena Gilbert," Elena replied, summoning up a smile. "Did you just say Stefan knew I was coming?"

"Damon called us a few days ago to drop the bombshell, yes," she said, shooting Damon an annoyed look.

"Bombshell?" Elena repeated, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm not an inconvenience, am I?

"No, you're not," Damon jumped in.

"I didn't ask _you_, now did I?" Elena snapped, not making eye contact. She was clearly still embarrassed and even a little angry with him, much to Lexi's amusement. The vampire's lips pulled up as she placed her hands on her hips, singing, "I like her."

_Yeah_, Damon thought, pushing past the blonde, entering the safe house. _So do I._

The place hadn't changed a bit: rustic wide plank floors, exposed brick walls, sparkling chandeliers that hung down from the heavy ceiling beams. The place was warm, huge and if every single one of the twenty bedrooms hadn't been packed with vampires who got on his last nerve, he might've actually liked it there.

"Holly crap," Elena mumbled, taking in her surroundings.

"I tried to make it as homey as possible under the circumstances," Lexi said, leading the way to the living room.

"It's beautiful." The interior overwhelmed Elena so much, she forgot all about her embarrassment and walked out in front of him, twirling around, taking it all in…as Damon took _her_ in. He knew now she was attracted to him, he'd felt it. But did that change anything? Attraction wasn't love.

Attraction wasn't even a sign that she liked him the way he yearned for her to like him.

And yet, even though he tried to fight it, that little flicker of hope had found his heart and nestled there.

But was it enough?

Wasn't _hope_ just an emotion designed to fool oneself?

Before he could think about it any further, Elena disappeared through a door and he heard Lexi say, "Elena Gilbert, meet Stefan Salvatore."

Sighing, Damon mentally prepared himself before entering the living room.

The living room was still impressive: wooden floors, light brown furniture, warm rug, massive stone fireplace and off course a giant floor-to-ceiling window that bathed the whole room in sunlight, casting a warm glow on the dozen or so vampires inside. A little spell from the witches kept all those without a daylight ring from combusting, something Damon cursed in that very moment.

Stefan was sitting on the arm of the couch, Elena's hand still clutched in his when his eyes found his brother.

"Damon," Stefan said shortly, giving him a tight nod.

"Hello brother," Damon answered, leaning back against the wall, his hands shoved in his pockets. He could feel everyone's eyes on him and he knew, without looking, that most of them weren't happy to see him again. He wasn't exactly a popular fellow in the house, mostly because he was very vocal about his detest for the majority of them.

"I'm glad you've decided to grace us with your presence again," Stefan snapped.

Damon cast him a cocky grin. "You're welcome."

"Are you sure you weren't followed?"

"This isn't my first rodeo, grasshopper."

"A simple _yes_ would've sufficed, " Stefan snarled, his eyes shooting fire.

"True, but being boring is _your_ thing, so−"

"And putting everyone at risk is yours, so−"

The hostility in the room was evident and he could see Elena getting uncomfortable, even more than she already was to begin with.

"Well," Lexi broke the heavy silence, hooking her arm through Elena's. "As fun as this is, I'm going to have to duck out. I need to get myself and my new friend here, ready."

Damon focused back on the blonde. "Ready for what?"

"My rehearsal dinner. I'm getting married tomorrow, remember."

He'd forgotten all about that. Forgotten all about _everything_, everything but Elena. Not to mention that Lexi's wedding hadn't been high on his priority list to begin with. Not so long ago, he didn't understand how Lexi could even be thinking about love in the middle of the shit-storm that was Klaus. Especially not love _for a human_.

The irony did not escape him.

"Outside," Stefan growled when the women had left the room.

"Dramatic," Damon mumbled, following his brother into the sunlight.

"I cleaned up your mess in Venice," was the thing Stefan opened with as Damon closed the door. "The house is completely gone. Tell me, how the fuck did you manage to destroy something that has survived decades of turmoil, in just one night?"

"_I_ didn't burn it down, Stefan."

"No, but we both know you might as well had lit the match, brother! Off all the places you could've gone to, you just had to pick Venice? It's _Venice_, Damon! Klaus knows about our ties with that place! And you know he knows! So why the hell didn't you wait, Damon? We're _this_ close to taking Klaus out and after that, you would've been free to destroy our family's properties all over the world! But no, you had to go to Venice _now_? What were you thinking?"

"I was _thinking_ I'm sick and tired of Klaus deciding our every move! I wanted to go to Venice, so I went to fucking Venice!"

"And that lack of impulse control makes you a liability, brother!"

"Oh, I have impulse control! If I didn't, I'd have your heart in my hands right now! Besides, I'd rather be a liability than some do-gooder like you!"

"I wonder if you'll still be saying that when The Original Mother decides you're a risk she's no longer willing to take!"

"What is she going to do? Kick me out? Wouldn't that kind of defeat the purpose?"

"No, Damon," Stefan said, his voice serious. "She won't _kick you out_."

Damon snorted when he understood the truth. "If she wants to kill me, she can give it a shot."

"She's The Original Mother, Damon! She won't just _give it a shot_!"

Damon knew he was right, but he wasn't going to admit it. Ever.

"Now, moving on," Stefan continued. "Putting aside the fact that you're already pissing me off, I'm actually glad you're here."

"Missed me, did you?"

"Yes," Stefan mocked. "Can't you tell by the brotherly love radiating off me?"

"You're not practised enough to pull off sarcasm."

Stefan rolled his eyes. "I'm glad you're back because The Foreboding were closing in on you. It was only a matter of time before they got to you and thereby us."

"Ah, so you weren't so much worried about me as you were about yourself?"

"And everyone else here."

"How very heroic of you."

"Last place The Foreboding were spotted was in Germany," Stefan continued, irritation thick in his voice. "What were you doing in Germany?"

"We needed a safe place to spend the night."

"There's no safe house in Germany."

"I knew someone there."

"Who−" Stefan trailed off, sighing. "Emilio. How is my favorite psychopath?"

"Dead."

"Obviously."

"No, I mean, dead_er_ than usual."

"Oh," he said, misunderstanding the situation. His brother thought he'd lost a friend. "The Foreboding?"

"Me."

Clearly, _that_ Stefan hadn't seen coming. "You? _You_ killed Emilio? I thought he was your friend."

"He was."

"What happened?"

"Doesn't matter."

Stefan stayed quiet, baffled by this new information, staring at his brother...and then, Damon could see comprehension dawning on Stefan's face. "The bite mark in her neck. Emilio bit her."

Damon just raised his eyesbrows, shrugging, but his blasé attitude didn't fool Stefan.

"You killed him for it," his brother added, puzzled and slightly impressed. "You killed your best friend, because he tried to make a meal out of this girl."

"Your point being?"

This time, it was Stefan who shrugged, clearly trying to hide a smile. "No point. She seems like a great girl."

_A great girl? Understatement, much? Idiot._

"But you know it was dumb to bring her here, right?"

"Yeah, well," Damon rumbled. "I guess I'm dumb then."

"No, you're not. That's the thing. You're smart, calculated, especially when it comes to self-preservation, so for the life of me, I can't figure out why you choice to drag a human along for the ride. You would've gotten here much faster without her."

"That's _why_ I brought her. This isn't exactly my favorite place in the world."

"Really?" Stefan smiled arrogantly. "That's what you're going with? You brought her to delay getting here?"

"I'm not _going with _anything. Last time I checked, I didn't have to run my every decision by you nor do I have to explain myself to you, brother. And will you stop smiling like an idiot."

Stefan's smile just widened and Damon knew why. His brother wasn't dumb, either. He knew something was different about him. He knew Elena was more than just another girl. And he took way too much pleasure in it.

"If you're done acting like a retard, could we get back to talking about important stuff," Damon snapped, feeling too exposed for comfort. "Like Klaus and how close we are to driving a stake through his heart."

"Sure. We'll change the subject," Stefan said, adding in a mumble. "For now."

* * *

Night had fallen and for the first time since he'd met Elena, Damon was able to stand underneath the stars without worrying about The Foreboding catching up with them, with her. Not that he was any less anxious, though. It was only the reason _why_ that had changed. Tonight, it wasn't Klaus who got under his skin. Tonight, the thing that gave him chills were the twinkly lights in the trees above, the candles in jars serving as a makeshift path from the backdoor to the large, oak table in the middle of the garden and most of all, the girl in the light pink, A-line dress. The chiffon dress picked up every little breeze, moving the fabric around Elena's curves, outlining her stunning figure. And that pleated V-neck…

He was sure Lexi had put her in that garment on purpose. To torture him. And it was working. It was the reason he hadn't eaten a bite and it was the reason he was now keeping to the shadows. He couldn't sit there anymore, at that table, watching her laugh and mingle with everyone but him. So now, he was leaning against a tree…doing that exact same thing. How could he not watch her? She was the most beautiful thing in that yard, especially with her hair pinned up into a perfectly styled, curly mess.

"Am I boring you, Salvatore?"

Damon tore his eyes away from Elena, focusing back on the one vampire he _could_ stand.

"You?" Damon said, smiling a sincere smile. "Never, Rose. I was just-"

"-being a creepy stalker?" The spunky brunette finished, following his gaze to Elena. "She's stunning."

"Is she? I hadn't noticed."

Rose smiled weakly, self consciously smoothing her red dress down. She had every right to feel self conscious. Sure, she was beautiful...but she was no Elena. Still, he heard himself saying, "You're not looking so bad yourself, Rose-Marie."

"And yet, you've never asked _me_ to go on a roadtrip with you," she sang, smiling.

"It wasn't a roadtrip. We were on the run."

"So?"

"So, I bumped into Hades, slept in a shed, had a car accident and faced-off with The Foreboding."

"So you didn't enjoy yourself? Not even for a split second? With her?" she nodded at Elena, who was now sitting down, sipping from a glass of white wine. At once, he was back in that bar, in Venice, seeing her for the very first time. He had no idea what he was getting into back then. in fact, if you'd told him in that bar that this girl would change his world, change him, he would've probably walked away. And he would've missed out because of it.

"That's what I thought," Rose sang smugly when Damon didn't deny it fast enough. "You've been smiling way too much."

"I smile because you amuse me, Rose."

"I've always been amusing, but you've never smiled as much as you are tonight."

"Maybe you're particularly amusing this evening."

"I don't think so. It's not me. It's you. You've changed."

"Come on, Rose. We both know I'm incapable of change."

"And we both know that's not true. For example, instead of shying away and being up in your room reading or something, you're here, dressed up, mingling."

"I'm hiding in the shadows, wearing an old suit, with you."

"Still, I see progress."

"Maybe you should get glasses."

"Maybe. Or maybe you should get the girl."

Damon's eyes found Elena again. She was talking to Stefan, smiling, laughing. Why did his chest hurt at that?

"Elena Gilbert," Rose whispered. "Why did you bring her here, Damon?"

"Klaus is after her."

"Klaus is after a lot of people."

"Yes, but it's _my fault_ he's after her. It's_ my fault_ she's in danger."

"No offense, but you're not one to care who he puts in danger. Especially not when they're strangers. Or human."

"She's not a stranger."

"She _was_ when you decided to take her with you."

"What do you want me to say, Rose?"

"The truth would be nice."

Damon sighed. "Why don't you tell me what _you_ think the truth is so we can drop this subject."

"Okay, I think this girl got under your skin. I think the first time you met her, you were fascinated. She probably turned you down in some nightclub. And you liked that. You liked that she was immune to your charm, liked that she was indifferent. So, when The Foreboding came knocking, you thought you could take her with you and figure her out along the way. But you couldn't. You still haven't," she paused, casting him a sympathetic smile as she added, "That didn't stop you from falling for her, though."

_How the hell did she do that?_

"I didn't fall for this girl, Rose."

"Come on, Damon. Don't insult my intelligence. I've loved, as a human and a vampire. I know what it looks like and the way you look at this girl-" she trailed off, sighing. "You should see what I see, then you'd know there's really no point in denying it."

Now, Damon wasn't the sharing-type and if it had been anyone else confronting him, he would've kept denying it or had simply walked away, but now he found himself wanting to _tell_ Rose. Everything. He hadn't had anyone to talk to about this and in the past, he wouldn't have cared. He simply would've put all his frustration in some killing-spree. However, killing would alert The Foreboding off his location-and Elena's-so maybe he should try this talking thing first. He could trust Rose. She wouldn't run her mouth to the others, wouldn't mock him behind his back and she would tell him the truth. Plus, if talking it over didn't work, he could always kill later.

"You've completely missed the mark," Damon rumbled, making Rose sigh. "I met her in a bar. Not a nightclub."

The brunette's face lighted up at his unexpected admission. "Right, my bad."

"So," Rose said after a long moment of silence. "Have you told her how you feel?"

"Yes."

"How did that go?"

"I'm here, in the dark and she's out there, enjoying herself. How do you think it went?"

"Give her time."

"Time won't change anything."

"Sure it will. Maybe−"

"Look at her," Damon cut her off, gazing out over the garden, to the girl underneath the twinkly lights. "She's social, charming, pleasant, people like her and I'm−"

"−not as bad as you think you are."

Damon turned his back on the crowd, on Elena, his hands shoved in his jacket. "I thought she at least liked me, but now, I think she just tolerated me, Rose."

"Damon, I'm sure that's not true."

"No? Think about it. She had no other options while we were on the road. No one else to talk to. But now that she does, she doesn't even notice me."

"Look at it from her side. You bring her to a house, packed with people, scratch that, _vampires_ she doesn't know and you expect her to do what? Not speak to them? Only spend time with you?"

"She has't said a word to me, Rose. Not one. She hasn't even looked at me all night."

"That doesn't necessarily mean that she doesn't like you."

"No, but it definitely means she doesn't love me."

Rose's eyes softened on his as she struggled to find words, searching for something to say that would give him hope. But there was nothing to say. There _was_ no more hope.

"I'm leaving tomorrow morning," he announced.

"Seriously? You're leaving her behind? Just like that?"

"No," Damon snapped. "Not _just like that_. This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do and I've done some hard shit, Rose."

"You don't _have_ to do this."

"I do."

"Are you at least going to say goodbye to her? Give her a chance to react?"

"I doubt she'll even notice I'm gone."

"Come on, Damon. Now you're just being ridiculous."

"Am I?"

Rose's eyes warmed even more, but before she could say anything, Damon said goodnight and headed upstairs.

* * *

Even though Damon had claimed one of the biggest rooms as his own, kicking out three new vampires who were intimidated enough by his reputation to not put up a fight, he hadn't slept a wink. He'd changed his mind about three time during the night and then changed it again.

And again.

And again.

But in the end, he'd found himself sneaking out of his room as soon as the sun had made its appearance. Everyone was still asleep, much to his relief.

He didn't want to hear his brother or Lexi lecture him about his decision.

He didn't want Rose to try and stop him.

And he didn't want to say goodbye to _her_.

He really should've learned by now that he couldn't have it all.

His heart simultaneously jumped and sank when he saw Elena, leaning back against the car, her eyes closed as she breathed in deeply. Was there any time of day that she didn't look amazing? Honestly, she couldn't have had a lot more sleep than him and yet, she looked…perfect.

"Don't scratch the car," he snapped when he reached her, trying to sound more annoyed and less desperate…which wasn't easy. Especially not when her eyes snapped open and those brown depths found him. How was he going to live without those eyes? He'd done it before, for decades, and yet, somehow, it seemed unimaginable now.

"And a good morning to you, too," she said, running a hand through her already rummaged hair. Since when did unbrushed hair look so damned sexy?

When Damon stayed quiet, Elena added, "Well, I'm here."

"Yes, I can see that."

"So, speak."

Damon's brows pulled together. "Speak? About what?"

"I don't know. If I knew, I hadn't dragged myself out of bed at five in the morning, had I?"

_What?_

"Speaking off," she continued, not noticing the lost look on Damon's face. "Why did I have to come out here? If you wanted to talk to me, why not come up to my room instead of sending this Rose-person to fetch me like I'm your servant or something, like I'm at your every beck and call?"

That's when the penny dropped. Rose. That sneaky, conniving little…

"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

Damon shot her a look that said it all.

"Great," Elena mumbled. "I hope your friend had her fun."

Damon could understand why she was so annoyed. From the looks of it−she was still wearing blue pyjama bottoms and a white T-shirt−Elena had literally been pulled straight out of bed.

"Okay," she said, walking past him. "I'm going back to bed. Hopefully, I can get a few more hours of sleep before some other vampire decides to mess with the human."

"You do that," Damon mumbled. "You had a long night after all."

Elena frowned, halting on her way back to the house. "What?"

"Last night," he explained, trying to sound nonchalant about it. "You were sure having fun."

"How would you know? You weren't there."

"I'm surprised you noticed."

"I always notice when you're gone." Before Damon could marvel in that confession and figure out what it had meant, she continued in a harsher voice, "Besides, I _wasn't_ having fun. At all."

"It sure looked like you were, smiling, laughing, touching."

She huffed. "Lexi put me in that amazing dress and was all enthused about this dinner, so I couldn't eat and get the hell out of there, away from all those people and their million questions. I wanted to, though. Get out of there. Badly. I'm not a people-person, remember. I told you the first night we met."

He remembered.

He remembered everything about that night.

He remembered everything about every _moment_ he'd spend with her. And he would remember this one as well. The last one.

"You disappoint me, Salvatore," she added. "I thought that by now, you would've been able to tell the difference between my real smile and my fake one. I mean, you're the only one who's actually made me smile _for real_ in a very long time, so−" she cut herself off abruptly, blinking wildly. "Anyway, clearly I could use some more sleep, so I'm going now. Goodnight. Or good morning. Whatever."

She walked away and Damon couldn't help but watch her leave. This was the last time he was going to see her again. His hand already on the door handle, Damon tried his best to memorize everything about her.

The way she seemed to glide and not walk.

Her brown hair reflecting the orange light of morning.

Her earthy, flowery smell that reminded him of vanilla and sunshine.

But he knew the memory itself would never be enough. He would always miss her. Not just her looks. Her. Her spirit. Her stubbornness. Her laugh. Her ability to make him forget who he was and remind him off who he could be.

As she closed the door behind her, it felt like tiny shards of glass had crept inside his bloodstream and were now flowing through him, slicing through every vein in his body each time his heart beat without her. For the first time, Damon cursed the fact that he would live forever.

How was he going to go through eternity feeling like this?

How was he going to go through eternity _feeling_?

Just as Damon opened the door of his car to get in, Elena opened the door of the house, storming out.

"You didn't send Rose," she said, making her way towards him.

"I thought we'd covered this."

"Yeah, we did," she snapped, stopping, her eyes wider than before. "You didn't come out here to talk to me."

"Again, no," Damon said, annoyed.

"Then why are you here, Damon?"

Damon stayed quiet, but he had a feeling Elena didn't actually need the answer. She knew. She knew why he was there.

"Go back inside, Elena," he said, determined.

"You can't just leave."

"Watch me." He opened the car door again, but before he could get in, she slammed her hand against it, shutting it loudly.

"Elena," Damon snarled, noticing movement behind the windows. "I'm not in the mood for this."

"Why would you leave?"

If Damon didn't know any better, he would've sworn he heard a trace of sadness in her voice.

"You're safe now," Damon explained. "You don't need me to look after you anymore."

"So you were just going to abandone me? Without so much as a goodbye?"

"I didn't think you'd care."

She huffed, shaking her head. "This is still about the kiss, isn't it?"

Damon glared at her, his stomach clenching. "Go back inside, Elena."

"No," she spit out. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"I'm not doing anything to you, Elena!" he barked, losing his patience. Why was _she_ playing the victim? "I'm not leaving you in the middle of nowhere! I'm not leaving you at the mercy of The Foreboding! You're safe!"

"But−"

"I promised I'd get you here and I did! What more do you want?"

"You!" she screamed, her face turning red in fury. "I want you! Just not the way you want me to want you! But I do want you! Here! With me! You're my−"

"Don't!" Damon screamed right back. "If you say _friend_ one more time I will throw your ass over my shoulder, drag you inside the house and tie you to the fucking stairs with my belt!"

"I'm sick and tired of your idle threats, Salvatore!"

"Nothing idle about it, sweetheart!"

"No?" she bit out, taking a step closer to him, her chin raised defiantly. "Friend, friend, friend, friend, friend−"

Her words turned into a scream when Damon grabbed her waist and flung her over his shoulder, stalking to the house.

"I can't believe you're actually doing this again! Put me down, Salvatore!" she screamed, hitting his back. "Now!"

Damon slammed his foot against the door, making the wood scream out.

"God," she fumed when he put her down, "Why does it have to be like this with you?"

He just shot her a glare, grabbing her hands and raising them over her head.

"It's all or nothing! There's no in between! I either love you or you think I don't give a shit!"

"You _don't_ give a shit!" he snarled, pulling his belt out of his pants and tying it around her wrists. "You told me yourself that you're just physically drawn to me!"

"And yet, I'm here! Begging you to stay!"

"I can't stay!"

"You can!"

"**I CAN'T!**"

"**YOU CAN," **she yelled back, her eyes spitting fire.** "YOU JUST WON'T!**"

"**FINE, I WON'T!**"

"**WHY NOT?**"

"**I JUST WON'T!**"

"**WHY NOT!**"

"**BECAUSE I'M DYING!**"

All the color flooded from her cheeks and lips, leaving her pale and wide-eyed, her anger vanished completely. "What?"

"It's been eight days," he snarled. "Eight days I've wanted you. Eight days I've spend watching you, trying to resist you, trying to fight this feeling in my chest! I don't _like_ this feeling, Elena! If I could make it stop, I would! But I can't! I tried so hard, but it won't go away! Eight days was all it took for me to fall in love with you and I'm dying because of it!" He slammed his fist against his chest. "Right here, you're killing me, Gilbert. I can't be here, with you without craving to touch you, to kiss you and knowing I can never do that, knowing _we_ can never be that..."

He sighed, dropping his hands with the belt still in them. He was done. Done fighting. Done arguing. Done trying to explain his every move. He was just…done.

"Damon," she whispered, her eyes damp. "I−"

"Don't," he said, softer. "I really don't need to hear you rejecting me again."

"Damon? Elena?"

Damon sighed when his brother entered the hallway. "Just when I thought this couldn't get any worse."

"Everything alright here?" Stefan asked, his eyes shifting between Damon, Elena and the belt.

"Yeah," Damon hissed. "Everything's peachy."

And with that, he walked away from Elena, bursting out the door.

Even though he could hear her and Stefan following him, Damon didn't look back on his way to the car. He was going. Now. He was sick of this, fed up, done.

"Damon, please, just stop!"

"You know," Damon yelled, his eyes fixed on the car. "For someone who claims she could never love a vampire, you sure seem eager to keep one around."

"I never said I couldn't love _a vampire_. You never let me explain−"

"Give it up already."

"Give in already!"

"You're pissing me off again, Gilbert!"

"That's what I do! I piss you off, you piss me off, but in the end, we're still friends!"

"Dear God!" he bit out through clenched teeth. "I never knew I could hate a _word_ until you started with this _friend_-shit!"

"Damon, please, don't do this!"

_Block her out!_

"Damon, you don't understand! You can't just go and leave me like−"

He unlocked the car, the _beep beep_ sound cutting her off.

"You're actually going," she whispered, clearly talking to herself. "You're leaving."

_Ignore her!_

His hand was already on the door, when he heard it.

First, a soft _thump_. It was too light of a sound for it to be a body hitting the ground.

Then, Stefan clearing his throat.

And finally, Elena screaming, "Damon!"

His curiosity getting the better of him, Damon dared a glance…but didn't quite understand what he was seeing.

Elena.

Standing there, her arms wrapped around her …her T-shirt dropped at her feet.

"If you think that just taking your shirt off is going to change my−"

And then she dropped her arms.

And Damon forgot how to speak. All he could do was feel his blood boiling. However, his rage was no longer directed at her. No, every ounce of it was directed at whoever had done _that_ to her.

Her belly, her chest and− from the look on Stefan's face behind her−her back was covered in scar tissue. Some scars were thin and long. Other short and wide. He wished he didn't know what had made those, but he had enough experience to know only knives could have done that much damage. He could even tell _which ones_ had been used to carve up her beautiful skin. And then there were the burn marks. So many of them. Too many of them.

"The last time I fell in love, I was sixteen," Elena whispered, wringing her hands, her eyes vulnerable. "He was everything to me. From the moment I met him, I fell blindly, I _trusted_ blindly. And not only that. I depended on him, too. So much, that I lost myself. I lost myself and became a girl who's world revolved around the man she loved. He just became…everything. My parents saw the girl they'd raised disappearing, they tried to warn me about him, that he wasn't what he seemed. But I didn't care. I knew better. I knew _him_ and I believed with all my heart that he would never hurt me." Her eyes hardened a little. "He asked me to marry him when I was seventeen. At first, I wanted to say _yes_, but during the time we'd been living together, I'd seen a change in him. I'd seen a darkness and he was starting to scare me. He'd never touched me, but I could see his soul and I didn't like what I saw. So, I turned him down, I broke up with him and I returned to a family I'd threated so badly. A family that welcomed me back with open arms."

She paused and he could see her eyes glaze over as she thought about what she was going to say next, as she relived her past.

"I didn't know," she whispered eventually. "I didn't know that evil like him existed. I didn't know what some were capable off. Not until I was holding my brother, telling him that everything was going to be okay as I tried to stop a bleeding I knew I couldn't stop, lying to him that our parents were fine and not dead in the upstairs hallway. Not until I found myself chained up in a basement, tortured by a murdering psychopath I spend a year of my life with, wondering how I could've been so blind."

A single tear ran down her cheek, but her eyes never lost that hard edge.

"That was the last time I trusted anyone, the last time I loved, the last time I felt _anything_. Until I met you. Don't you get it. It's not that I can't love _a vampire_. It's not that I can't love _you_. I just can't love, period. I can't bring my heart to take that necessary leap of faith anymore. But this _friendship_ that you look down on, that isn't good enough for you, is the closest I will ever get. The closest I'll ever get to _love_. The closest I've gotten to _feeling _again. So, please, I'm begging you…don't go. Stay. Because I don't want to be who I used to be anymore and I think I need you to be better. I need _you_ to be _me_."

Damon could barely suppress the inferno blazing within him. He didn't know what to say, didn't know how to process what he'd just learned. He'd guessed there had been darkness in her past, but not _this_ much darkness. She'd been tortured by someone she'd trusted, lost her family at the hands of someone who'd been lucky enough to have her love. How could anyone do that? How could anyone ever hurt _Elena_?

Blind fury consumed him, drove his actions, made the decisions now.

He couldn't remember getting in the car.

He couldn't remember driving off.

All he could remember were Elena's cries as he threw the car in reverse and drove away.

Away from the safe house.

Away from her.

He knew what he had to do now. He knew where he had to go. He needed answers and there was only one man who could tell him what he needed to know.

* * *

**PLEASE COMMENT GUYS! IT REALLY KEEPS ME GOING AND I LOVE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT THE STORY DEVELOPMENT! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU LOVE/WHAT YOU HATE, BECAUSE BELIEVE ME, I TAKE IT ALL WITH ME WHEN I WRITE THE NEXT CHAPTERS! HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT AND MAKE SOME NOISE ON MY REVIEW PAGE :-)! REVIEWING TAKES A MINUTE, BUT MAKES MY WHOLE DAY!**

**x LustAndLove**


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